A Day of Prayer
by Harriet Vane
Summary: Serenity’s crew takes a day off to shop and have fun . . . at least until Simon finds himself in the middle of a blotched murder.
1. Prolog

Hey, thanks for reading. No, really, it means a lot to me. 

Yes, this is just the prolog to a much longer Firefly story, which means you need to review so that I know your reading and I'll put up the next chapter. 

Oh, and yeah, characters, setting, overarching plot, not mine . . . as if I needed to tell you.

PROLOG: 

"Tell me again," Simon said as he pulled the gauze out of a drawer. "How did you hurt your hand?"

"Well, it all started in bed . . ." Wash said, holding his injured hand in front of him like some sort of peace offering. Perhaps, to Zoe, it was. To Simon, however, it was just a simple problem with a simple solution. 

"You can skip that part," Simon said quickly, then glancing up at his patient nervously he asked, "Can't you?"

"I guess," Wash said, clearly enjoying how unnerved the young doctor was at the prospect of a blow by blow account of his nuptial bliss. "Let's just say we got into an argument that could only be solved by hand to hand combat."

"I . . . see," Simon said slowly, not seeing at all.

"So I challenged her to an arm wrestle. Best two out of three."

"Do you solve all your martial problems that way?" Simon asked, taking Wash's hand and prodding the swollen thumb joint very carefully. 

Wash winced and kept up with his story, though his voice was thin and tense, "So we go get the Captain to be the ref and we set up in the common room right?"

"I'm starting to think I don't want to know how this story ends," Simon said. "It looks like the thumb is just dislocated. I'm going to have to pop it back into place."

"Well then, pop away," Wash said.

"Who won?"

"Oh, hello Shepherd," Simon said, before he turned back to the counter to prepare the anesthetics.

"Hey Book, what up?"

"I heard you got injured fighting with your wife," Book said in a knowing tone that only a Shepherd could have. 

"Fighting isn't quite the word," Wash said, "Epic battle is more along the lines."

"Ok, Wash," Simon said, approaching him with a dope gun. "I'm going to numb your hand, you'll have to . . ."

"Wait, wait, wait," Walsh said. "Numb my hand? I need my hand."

"I know," Simon said. "That's why I'm numbing it."

"Can't you do it with out dope?"

"Well I could," Simon said. "But you don't want me to."

"I think you best listen to the doctor on this point, son," Book said.

"Hey, we're landing at Harpper's Point in thirty minutes. That's some tricky flyin' there and I've got to be all there. That means my hand."

"Can't anyone else fly the ship?" Simon asked. "The Captain and Zoe must . . ."

"Just fix my thumb, ok, kid."

"It'll hurt," Simon said. "You don't understand how much it will hurt. If you understood, you'd want to be doped."

"Come on, Doc, ain't got all day."

Simon looked pleadingly towards Shepherd Book, who only shrugged. "All right," the boy said. "Just so we're all clear that I wanted to dope you."

"What? You think the Captain will throw you out an air lock?" Wash asked with a smile.

Then Simon grabbed his thumb and pulled, popping the thumb back in place. The pilot gasped, and then screamed and then gasped again, and then started chanting, "Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod,"

"I told you," Simon said. "Do you want to dope now?"

"Yes," Wash said, grabbing Simon's arm and squeezing it. "God, yes!"

"Ok, ok," Simon said, taking the dope gun and injecting its contents into Wash's hand. 

Wash screamed again as the needle pushed through his flesh. "It's not working!"

"Just, give it a minute," Simon insisted. "Breathe."

"Right," Wash said, taking a few shaky breaths. Slowly they blossomed into steadier breathes and eventually, normal breathing. "Thanks, Doc."

"Ah, your welcome," Simon said, "You, ah, think you could let go of my arm."

"What?" Wash asked, looking up, clearly confused.

"My arm," Simon said, glancing to where he was held in an iron grip.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," the pilot said, letting go. "You know, I think the cure was worse than the disease."

"It often seems that way," Shepherd Book said wisely. "Although, no one debates that being cured is the best thing of all."

"Now, I've got to bind the hand until the tendons can have a chance to heal. Try not to move it."

"Like I could," Wash observed.

"Gentlemen," Inara's clear voice said, quickly drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Naw," Wash said with a smile. "We're just hangin' out, you know, bonding."

"Get in another fight with Zoe?"

"More of a lover's quarrel."

"Was it about dinosaurs?"

"Not entirely."

Inara smiled and turned her attention to the other men in the room, "And how are you today Shepherd?"

"Just fine, and yourself."

"Well, thank you. Doctor?"

"Inara," Simon said by way of greeting, looking up from his work binding Wash's hand. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the Companion said, stepping fully into the room. "I was wondering if you men could give me some advice."

"Advice?" Simon asked as he picked up some scissors to cut the gauze. 

Inara set her dark, perceptive eyes on him and smiled mysteriously. "Yes Doctor. We're setting into Harpper's Point shortly and I plan to do some shopping. I was just wondering what parts of the female anatomy you gentlemen find most attractive." 

Simon dropped his scissors. 

Inara smiled, "I have to decide what I should accentuate."

"Legs," Wash said without missing a beat. "I love a good set of legs. Although, what's above the legs is important to, you know that place where the legs and the body kinda . . ."

"I know," Inara said quickly.

"And breasts, you can't go wrong with a nice," he suddenly noticed that everyone was staring at him. "You know, set. Not that I look anymore, cause, you know, Zoe, she's well . . ."

"How about you Shepherd?" Inara said, gracefully relieving Wash. "What do you find attractive in a woman?"

"I chose to focus on a woman's character, not on her outward appearance."

"I should have known," Inara sighed. "But still, such a cultured man must have some appreciation for the purely aesthetic womanly qualities?"

"Well," Book said, "On a purely aesthetic level, I suppose I've always enjoyed a woman's voice." 

"Voice, really?" 

"My mother had the most beautiful voice and I have to say that I was never attracted to a woman, no matter how lovely her face was, nor perfect her body, unless she had the voice of an angel."

"That's very interesting," Inara said, tilting her head. She seemed to consider the Shepherd's comment for a moment before turning to the Simon. "And what about you, Doctor, what part of the body do you find particularly attractive?"

"Ah," Simon stuttered, trying to appear as if tying the gauze around Wash's hand was an all consuming task. "I, ah, I admire a lady's neck."

"What, like a vampire?" Wash laughed.

"I think the neck is very graceful."

"So," Inara asked, "Does that mean that you prefer women with short hair?"

"Not at all," Simon said quickly. "And what does it matter what I like?"

"I'm just trying to understand the male mind," Inara said. "I have to admit that, for the most part," she glanced at Wash, "I found your answers surprising."

"Geepers Inara," Captain Reynolds said, coming up behind her. Simon thought the infirmary was starting to feel crowded. "I didn't think anything a man did could surprise you."

"Captain," Inara said, smiling despite his cutting remarks. "I was just taking a poll,"

"I don't put much stock in polls."

"What do you find most attractive in a woman?"

"The ability to look a man in the eyes and say 'Money don't matter, the answer's no.'"

There was a very heavy pause. Simon could have cut through the silence with his laser saw; he desperately wished it was at hand.

"I meant," Inara finally said icily. "What _physical_ traits do you find most attractive?"

"Oh," the Captain said, totally unashamed. "Then lips, I guess."

"Lips?"

"I like a woman with a nice set of lips," Reynolds said, somewhat defensively. He looked around the room to see if anyone was going to mock him. No one seemed inclined so he decided to get back to business. "But I didn't come here to get polled. Doctor, you make that list of supplies for the infirmary like I asked?"

"Yes sir," Simon said quickly.

"Good, keep it at hand, we'll try to stock up at Harpper's Point. Speaking of, Ambassador, I need you on the bridge."

"Yes sir," Inara said, pushing her way past Mal. Once she was gone everyone felt they could start breathing again.

"Wash good to go?" the Captain asked.

"He can't use his hand," Simon said. "Is that important?"

"He's a pilot," Reynolds spat. "Of course it's important!"

"Well, you could land the ship, couldn't you sir?" Wash asked.

"I hired a pilot so I wouldn't have to. I could say, 'Pilot, land the ship' and not worry about it while I did other things."

"The dope should wear off in a couple of hours," Simon said apologetically.

"I hope it does," Reynolds said, glaring at the doctor before storming out of the infirmary. "Otherwise you might find your way on the wrong side of an air lock."

There was another chilling silence, filled only by the metallic echoes of Reynolds bounding up the stairs towards the bridge. Then, when he was safely out of hearing distance, Wash burst into laugher. "See," the pilot gasped between hysterics. "That's exactly what I was trying to avoid when I asked you not to dope me."

"This isn't funny!" Simon protested. "He just threatened to kill me."

"I'm sure the Captain would never follow through," Book said. He was trying to keep a straight face for Simon's sake, just not doing a very good job of it.

"You were screaming in pain," Simon said defensively, obviously missing the joke. "You begged for anesthetics."

Wash pushed himself off the diagnostic bed. "Doc, lighten up."

Simon starred at him, mystified. 

Wash sighed, "I probably should be on the bridge, you know, just in case."

The pilot turned and jogged up the stairs leading towards the bridge, leaving the Doctor and the Shepherd alone. "They're crazy," Simon said, still staring out the door. "Every last one of them is crazy."

"And we depend on them for protection and support. What does that make us?"

"Very desperate." 

To be continued . . .

(Please do review)


	2. Plans

Chapter 1: Plans

"Do you know how many brothels they have at Harpper's Point?" Jayne asked, a disturbingly large smile on his face.

"No," Zoe said, wishing the Captain would be back soon. 

"Five," Jayne said with relish. "And twelve strip clubs. Granted, two a them is male strip clubs, but that's still levees ten clubs for my viewing enjoyment. Got any idea how many lap dances a fella could get with twenty platinum?"

"No," Zoe hoped her voice clearly communicated that she did not ever want to know how many lap dances could be purchased with twenty platinum.

"Mor'n I could get in the time we're gonna be there," Jayne sighed, disappointed. "Still, I figure I'll go to two or three, you know, between brothels ta keep me in the mood."

"Remind me never to ask you what your doing on your leave again," Zoe said, shaking her head.

Jayne grunted, "Wha'r you doin'?"

Zoe took a deep breath. "Wash and I are going to the spa."

"A spa?" Jayne grunted. "Like with the mud on yer face while strangers sit and file your toe nails?"

"That's pretty much the idea."

Jayne burst into laughter, "Wash is gonna have mud on his face?"

"Most like," Zoe nodded. "But then, he's not looking much forward to that."

Jayne kept laughing. 

"Naw, what I think he's eager for is when we're gonna be naked in the hot tub."

Jayne stopped laughing. "Wha?"

"Yeah," Zoe said. "It's real relaxing. I could imagine spending hours in there. You know, just him, me," She smiled slyly, "the steam."

"Hun," Jayne grunted. "Well, I guess, I could see . . ."

They were interrupted as Inara, followed closely by the Captain, stormed on to the bridge.

"Have we hailed Happer's Point yet?" Inara demanded. 

"Someone's in a snit," Jayne grunted.

"Just waitin' for you," Zoe said, shooting an annoyed look at Jayne. She leaned forward, pushed a few buttons to open a comm link and then slid aside so Inara could talk to the ground.

"Harpper's Point," a Docking Tech said. While his voice was projected loud enough so that everyone in the bridge could hear it, Inara was the only one that could see him on the vid screen. 

"I am the Companion Inara for the ship Serenity," The beautiful woman said gracefully. "We request docking for refueling purposes."

"Do you have any business here companion?" 

"No," she smiled. "Not this time."

"All right," the Tech said, entering some data into the screen in front of him. "Make of ship?"

"Firefly class."

"Refitted with Extenders?"

"Yes," the captain said softly.

"Yes," Inara repeated.

"Type of fuel?"

"Standard Hydro-mix," the captain muttered.

Inara turned her head and glared at him. She'd done this a thousand times before; she knew the routine by now. She turned back to the tech, "Standard Hydro-mix."

"Kay, sure I can't interest you in the Polly-hydro?"

"No," the captain instructed. 

"It's a little more expensive," the Tech continued. "But it's worth it, 'cause . . ."

"I'm sure," Inara snapped pleasantly. "Standard is adequate."

"Fine, then," the Tech muttered, "I's your engine. What's you ETA?"

"Twenty-five minuets," the Captain provided.

"Twenty-five minuets," Inara said, struggling to keep her voice pleasant as she visualized turning around and grabbing Mal by his throat and ringing it until he stopped acting like she didn't know how to dock the gorramn ship.

"All right," the Tech said, unaware of Inara's foul mood. "Looks like we got a spot for you at docking port E, number 16."

"Thank you," Inara said. "Serenity out." 

* * *

"Attention everyone," Captain Reynolds voice announced through the ship's comm system. "We've gotten the clear from Harpper's Point to dock and refuel. We'll be landing in about twenty minuets. For those a you don't know, Harpper's Point's a straight up trade center. You can get most anything you need there. We're gonna have to dock for about 7 hours, so you'll have plenty of time to shop. To fuel the ship we gotta turn it off, air, heat, everything, which means you can't stay on Serenity. Don't worry, Harpper's is well outa the Alliance's way, and they work hard to keep it like that. It'll expect ta see all you in the cargo bay in twenty minuets time, ready to get off."

"You said we had to stay here," River said, her voice trembling just a little. "You said here was safe."

"Here is safe," Simon quickly explained, licking his lips. "More safe than most places at least."

"Why are they kicking us off?"

"They're not kicking us off. The ship needs more fuel. It's just for a couple of hours."

"Where will we go?"

"I don't know," Simon admitted, "I guess we'll just walk around. They said it was a trade center, we could window shop."

"Aww," Kaylee's voice said from the door, "Not bein' able to buy anythin' takes half the fun."

River scampered behind Simon, peaking over his shoulder suspiciously.

"Ah, hi, Kaylee," Simon said uncomfortably. "How do you feel?"

"Just shiny, a-ok," The young engineer said. It was abundantly clear that she was not welcomed in the room, River was terrified of her and the doctor was confused by her. She wanted to retreat gracefully and, maybe, find an out-of-the-way hole to crawl into. But they didn't have the time. She pressed forward bravely. "I was wondering if I could Shanghai River for the afternoon."

"Simon I don't want to go!" River practically screamed into his ear as she dug her hands into his shoulders and arm. Her older brother winced in pain and turned to scowl at her the way older brothers always scowl at younger sisters. Kaylee thought it was cute. When he turned to look at the engineer his scowl was gone, but he still looked suspicious and confused. "What do you mean, 'Shanghai'?"

"Well," Kaylee said, taking a deep breath. "Inara'n me are gonna go shopin' up at Harrper's Point an' we were wonderin' if River'd like ta come along." When Kaylee leaned to the left to try to get a better look at River, Simon noticed that her hand flew to her stomach when she did that and she sucked the air in through her large smile instead of breathing normally. The gut wound she'd received was still bothering her; Simon made a mental note to have her in for a follow up examination as soon as they were back in the air, or perhaps, back out of the air. "Wha'da'ya say, sweetie? We're gonna try on dresses."

That piqued River's interest; she may have been severely traumatized by years of torture and testing and she might hear voices that weren't there, but she was still a girl, and a young girl at that. A young girl who hadn't gone shopping for three years ago, since before she went to the academy. She had wanted something special to wear on her first day. She pushed herself away from Simon a little. "Dresses?"

"Yeah," Kaylee said, thrilled that she was getting a response. "We'll pick out a real pretty one and you can wear it to dinner."

"Dinner?" Simon asked.

"To celebrate the job," Kaylee explained straightening up. "If pay's good enough Cap'in always treats us."

"And this last job, it paid well enough?"

"If nothin' else he got a ship's medic," Kaylee said smiling sweetly at him. "That ain't worth nothin'."

"He also has attracted undue Alliance attention at great risk to his ship and it's crew," Simon said cautiously. "I don't think this is a situation he want's to celebrate."

"Your just sayin' that 'cause you don't know 'im," Kaylee insisted. "You just gotta spend some time with the Cap'in, you'd see he's the nicest man you could ever wish to meet."

Simon was convinced he'd see no such thing, however he didn't feel like arguing with Kaylee on that point. She was young, beautiful, outgoing, brilliant, kind and innocent, not even Captain Reynolds could find it in his cold black shriveled heart to not love her. However, Simon felt he had none of those things going for him, there was room enough in Captain Reynolds' heart for a passionate hatred of the overeducated rich boy who'd foolishly brought his insane sister on the ship, making them a top Alliance target. 

"Um, Kaylee," Simon said quietly. "We don't have any money."

"Silly, I told you the Cap'in treats."

"No," Simon said, "That's not what I meant. River can't buy a dress because we don't have any money."

"Oh don't worry about it," Kaylee said. "Inara an' I'll buy it."

"No," Simon said. "We couldn't possibly accept . . ."

"We're not givin' it to you," Kaylee said, looking at Simon as if he were crazy. "We're givin' it to River." Kaylee leaned and winced again. "What do you say, sweetie? Want a new dress?"

"Yea," River said before looking at her brother. Simon knew that all he'd have to do was frown at her and she'd decline, opting to spend the entire time with him. But as much as he'd prefer that he knew that it would be better for River to do something normal, and to spend time with other girls. And as much as his pride was hurt, having to depend on others to cloth his sister, he had to acknowledge that the only cloths she had now were Inara's hand-me-downs, which were usually too big for the young girl. He was already dependent on the Companion's charity. He wished he had an excuse, beyond that of gross stupidity, for not being at all prepared to care for River after he saved her.

"Just be sure to thank Inara and Kaylee," he said, forcing every word out.

The look of sheer joy on his sister's face convinced him he'd made the right choice. 

"Thank you Simon!" The girl said excitedly, throwing her arms around her brother so suddenly and forcefully that he staggered. 

Kaylee let out a little laugh before she caught herself. She was sure that Simon was embarrassed by this adorable display of affection, she didn't want to make it worse.

"Shiny," Kaylee said, pushing some of her hair behind her ears and smiling sheepishly. "I'll just let you get ready then an' see ya in the cargo bay."

"Ah, yes," Simon said, watching her leave. She still wasn't walking quite normally, and her hand was defiantly pressing on her stomach, she probably had more pain that she was going to let on.

"Someone has a crush," River said in a sing-songy voice.

Simon turned and looked at her critically, "What on earth-that-was are you talking about?"

River just smiled at him.

To Be Continued . . . (Don't forget to review!)

Hey all, I just want to take this opportunity to apologize to EloraCooper4, parisindy, Soulbound, and the Saint of Cheese. Wash, as much as I love him, doesn't show up again, except in passing reference. This is because (with the exception of the dislocated thumb) Wash has a very, very good day. Let's just say if I wrote out what he and Zoe were doing the story'd have to be bumped up to an R rating. And as much as some people might like that, I, as the author, think it would be over-all distracting. So, with all reverence to Wash, he and Zoe are granted an undocumented day of bliss.


	3. Setup

Chapter 2: Set-up

"If she starts acting . . . unstable find me," Simon said very quietly to Inara, who was listening to him with the patience of someone who has no intention of following instructions, but does not want the person who's giving the instructions to know her true intent. "I'm going to find a bench or something close to the ship and wait."

They were walking out of the air lock and into a long clear tube. To the right or left they could see the other docked ships above them the vastness of the stars, moving slightly to the right as the asteroid turned. Kaylee was walking with River, pointing out different ships and explaining why Serenity was by far the best ship docked. River wasn't paying any attention, she was walking along slowly staring at the sky. 

"Wait for her to become unstable?" Inara asked.

Simon hesitated, "I didn't say that."

"We will take very good care of River," Inara said earnestly. "You don't have to worry."

"I'm sorry," Simon said. "I didn't mean to imply . . ."

"What is the doctor implying?" Captain Reynolds asked, steeping up to the conversation jovially. "Nothing indecent I hope. Or are you bending your strict polices for our young physician, Ambassador?

"Mal, you of all people should know I don't bend my polices," Inara quipped coolly. "Kaylee and I are taking River shopping. The good Doctor here was just trying to assure himself that his sister will be able to survive five hours without him."

"You're letting a whore baby-sit your crazy sister," Mal said, turning to the doctor as if he were impressed. "Brave man."

Simon glanced away, intimidated and embarrassed. Inara got mad. "Now that you've alienated two out of three people in this conversation maybe you would tell us why you interjected in the first place," she said, smiling boldly, almost challengingly.

"I'm here for the doctor. He and I are gonna go on a little shopping trip of our own."

"We are, sir?" Simon said, obviously uncomfortable.

"Yeah, you got that list for the Infirmary?"

"Yes . . ."

"Well, we're gonna see what we can do to make it shorter. I mean, it's a damn shame that the ship's medic has to go to the ship's companion for immunization packs," he glanced at Inara, she didn't react. He didn't have to glance at Simon to know the boy was looking at the ground. "That just ain't right."

"Well, I hope you two boys have fun," Inara said.

"Yeah," the Captain said, slapping Simon on the back, making the boy wince. "We'll have a blast. You girls too."

"Don't worry over us, Captain."

Reynolds smiled the way he smiled only when he was lying, "I never do."

* * *

Shepherd Book walked into the Chapel of Redeemer's Haven and felt immediately at home. The large sanctuary was nearly empty but still it seemed filled with the spirit and with life. To his right a Shepherdess was teaching a group of young children the story of Balamm and his donkey from the book of Numbers. It was, as Book recalled, the only part of the book of Numbers that children would be interested in. And from the laughter that echoed off the high rafters of the chapel when the shepherdess described Balaam's reaction to his beast's sudden articulations, Book couldn't help but smile. It was a good story to remember. Sometimes those who seem to be opposing us are really saving us, sometimes the brick walls that fly in our face are for our own protection.

Book was somewhat lost in this meditation when a kind hand was placed on his shoulder, "Brother," the soft voice of a younger man said. "Welcome to our chapel."

"Thank you," Book said, pulling himself away from the children and their wide-eyed wonder at the Shepherdess's description of the Angel of the Lord.

"I see Shepherdess Maria has captivated you with her story," the fellow Shepherd said.

"I'm not the only one," Book observed, looking back to the children. "Shepherdess Marie has quite a gift."

"Yes she does," the younger Shepard said with admiration. "We are truly blessed to have her here. God is evident in her work with this city's children. The children come for the stories, the parents come for the children, and the gospel is preached. I wouldn't be able to get the attention of even the most desolate scoundrel on this station, not to mention the most prosperous business owners without Maria."

"Then are you the head Shepherd?"

"The only Shepherd," the young man laughed. "It's just me and Maria. My name is Core, by the way."

"They call me Book."

"I'm glad to meet you, Shepard Book. It's not often we get pilgrims."

"Well, I'm not a pilgrim, per se, I'm more of a traveler. Goin' towards nowhere, mind you, just savoring the trip. I was hopin' I'd find a nice chapel here on Harpper's Point where I could pray."

"We have a prayer room in the back," Shepard Core, said, motioning towards a door in the front of the chapel, to the right of the altar. "Candles, icons, statues, a true place of peace."

Book chuckled, "I have found peace is a rare commodity out here, you're lucky to have it in such abundance."

"Not lucky, blessed," Shepard Core said. "And I would consider myself blessed if you'd let me pray with you."

"Brother Core, I can't think of anything that would please me more."

* * *

"No, no, you don't want those, you want the red ones."

"These are cheaper," Mal said forcefully. "We ain't got no big city budget to work with. Just the essentials."

"The bandages in the silver packets are cheaper because they use synthesized fibrils to speed collogulation."

"Ah," Reynolds said. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Recent studies have shown that over exposure to those kinds of bandages are the leading cause of strokes among those in the health care profession. They've been banned in the central worlds."

"Imagine that's why there so cheap, then," Mal said, putting the package down very carefully, as if he could get a stroke from just touching it. "But those red ones, they don't make you sick?"

"They just have vitamin K," Simon said, examining an assortment of antibiotics. 

"And that don't cause stroke?"

"It can make your skin orange if you have to much of it."

"Is orange skin harmful?"

"To your health?" Simon asked. "Not at all."

"So, a crate of red bandages," Mal said. "What else?"

"Well, I'd like to get about three hundred grams of amoxicillin."

"Three hundred grams? That's a hell'a'va . . ."

"There are nine people on you're ship, Captain, breathing the same recycled air," Simon said. "If one of us gets sick we will all get sick. Amoxicillin is the cheapest and the most dependable antibiotic available."

Reynolds nodded. "You use a lot of that stuff back at your big hospital."

"No," Simon answered. "There are plenty of designer antibiotics for the diseases that are common back there. But each planet has its own unique germs and bacteria. They'd be worthless. Amoxicillin is our best bet."

"Right, three hundred grams of Amoxicillin."

"And another three hundred of Aspirin."

"Aspirin?" Reynolds asked again. "Nobody on this ships get powerful 'nuf headachs that . . ."

"Aspirin is the best all around medication for simple pain relief and bringing down a fever," Simon said forcefully. "Are you going to question all of my requests or are you going to trust that, as a doctor, I understand what is needed to keep your crew alive."

"Like you understood what was needed to keep Kaylee alive?" 

Simon felt like the floor had just dropped out from under him. "I'm, I'm sorry." 

Mal didn't say anything. He just watched as the doctor brewed in his own shame and guilt. It wasn't fair, Mal knew that. The young doctor really was a man of integrity. He'd given almost everything up to protect his sister, the creature comforts of the city, a well paying job, a life without fear. But he hadn't given up his oath as a doctor, to do no harm. Well, yes, there was the thing with Kaylee, but he hadn't really done harm, and the kid obviously felt like hell every time he was reminded of it. Mal had considered not reminding him of it but dismissed the thought rather quickly. The kid took everything so seriously, playing him like this was just too much fun.

"We probably won't need that much aspirin, or amoxicillin for that matter," Simon said apologetically. "You could cut the orders down to two-hundred grams amoxicillin and One-fifty of aspirin. It's just that, in an emergency, I didn't want to be lacking."

"Don't worry, Doctor, I'm sure that you won't be lacking," Mal said, trying to offer the boy a supportive smile. Simon just looked confused. "We'll get three hundred grams a each."

"Thank you sir."

"Good God Mal," a rough voice boomed from somewhere behind them. Both Simon and Mal turned to see its source. Simon saw three large, muscular, clean cut men in bright blue uniforms. Mal saw trouble.

"Did you just call that boy 'doctor'," The largest man asked. "And did he just call you 'sir'?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Kurt, but yes," Mal said, placing his hands on his hips, making it very clear to everyone that he was armed. "Simon, why don't you go find us a clerk and order up those drugs and whatever else you think you'll be needin'."

"Yes sir," Simon said quickly, turning towards the pharmaceutical counter in the Medical Supply Warehouse. 

He hadn't gone two steps before he heard the rough voice say, "No, Simon, wait up."

Without thinking the doctor turned at the sound of his name; he heard Mal sigh and wished he'd kept going, "Do you want something?" the young man asked, praying the answer was 'no.'

"You a doctor?"

"Yes I am," Simon said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"We needs a doctor," Kurt said, smiling at the very large man to his right before turning his beady mud colored eyes back towards Simon. "And we need him quick. Ya look young but I reckon you'll do."

Simon suddenly found himself very, very afraid. Even though these men looked more respectable than Captain Reynolds and his crew, there was something about them that Simon couldn't place that felt wrong. The boy found himself wishing Jayne was there, the realization of which was almost as disturbing as the situation. He started edging his way back to the captain, "Do what?" he asked. 

"Do it matter?" the smaller man to Kurt's left asked. "Doctorin's Doctorin'."

"It matters because this happens to be my doctor," Mal said, stepping forward and placing himself, more or less, between the three men and Simon. "Bound to me by all laws and rights that count out here." 

"What you sayin' Reynolds?" Kurt asked. "You gonna charge us fer the use of your doctor?"

"Captain, I'm really uncomfortable with . . . " Simon started.

"Shut up, boy," Mal snapped, taking a step closer to the burly men. "I don't see why I shouldn't charge you for the doctor's services. If y'all went to a civilized planet, one with a hospital and whatnot then you'd be payin' top dollar for doctorin'."

"You know Old Cash," the smallest of the three men said. "He'd never go to a hospital."

"Old Cash's taken ill, is he?" Mal asked.

"He's taken somethin'," Kurt supplied. "How much you want for the doctor?"

"Captain Reynolds," Simon said, eyeing the men fearfully. "Mal, please . . ."

"Now when I tell you to shutup, I expect you to stay shutup," Mal snapped, making the doctor wince. Then he turned back to the three well groomed, uniformed brutes in front of them. "You get a little schoolin' in a boy's head an' he thinks he's better'n 'is Captain."

"How much you want?" the smallest man said, pulling out a purse.

"Well," Mal said slowly. "Ten ought'a . . ."

"Ten!" Kurt scoffed. "You _hong ya bing hun dan_. Why would we pay that?"

"Your right," Mal said nodding. "I was being foolish, Fifteen."

"No," the smallest man said. "Out of the question."

"Now's who's the greedy bastard? You're captain's dying and you know medical care on a civilized planet would cost three times that, at least. You think this kid's a damn _meng gu di fu_? Truth be told he's the best doctor you'll find in a light-year, no question. Went to the best med-school, graduated top three percent of his class. Worked ER in the best hospital in Capitol City. If I didn't owe Old Cash for that time on Apollo Three, I'd be chargin' a hell of a lot more."

"_Fei hau_," Kurt spit. "Why'd a guy give all that up to fly round in your rust bucket?"

"He killed a man in cold blood," Mal said quickly and simply. "Shot him through the head, Alliance don't smile on that sort of behavior."

"Why?" The smallest man asked.

"Prob'ly 'cause they're the law and they gotta prove they've got the power," Mal supplied.

"Naw, I mean, I'm just wond'rin why such a smart doctr'd throw all that success away to kill a man."

"The _hun dan_ was lookin' at his sister. Wasn't he, boy?" Mal said, throwing a significant glance to the young doctor. 

Simon licked his lips and tried very hard to lie, "Yes, yes," he said much too quickly and rigidly. "A man looked at my sister so I killed him. In cold blood. With a gun."

Mal blinked, swallowed, and turned back to the men and tried to smile. "Well, there you have it gentlemen. Fifteen for an afternoon with the big city doctor. Take it or leave it."

The three paused for a moment and then the smallest of the three huge men pulled out a purse. "Ten for an afternoon with the doctor. If the kid's as good as you say an' Cap'in gets better we'll give you the other five."

Mal nodded, "Seems reasonable. Now, if you don't mind," The Captain said, placing his hand on Simon's shoulder. "I gotta exchange a few words in privet with the doc here and you can be on your way." 

"Din' ya hear us?" the smaller man said. "This is an emergency!"

"Well, then, you can go find yerself another doctor, cause I can't let my boy here go without exchangin' a few words."

"'Friad he'll run off on you?" Kurt laughed.

"With such gents like you showin' him round the Betty-Lou, mayhaps," Mal said with a smile. "S'if you don't mind."

Mal took a few steps back and turned around, Simon followed suit and soon found himself listening, bewildered, as the captain spoke quickly in a hushed voice. "Now, listen son, you may be a fugitive from the law, but you ain't a very good one, so I'm gonna help you out. I know these guys. Old Cash ain't the type to give somin' or someone up if he thinks you're worth keepin' and these thugs'll do anything he tell's em so you've gotta be on your toes."

"I never agreed to this, Captain," Simon said firmly.

"If these guys woulda' found you without me around and asked for help, would'ja'of?"

"What?" Simon asked, "Helped them?"

Reynolds nodded.

Simon hesitated a moment before admitting, "Yes. I would have."

"An' now your gettin' paid fer that work."

Simon wanted to protest, to say that he didn't want to be paid if it meant being Malcolm Reynolds' _ma fan_. But he didn't quite have the conviction for that. He felt acutely how much he owed Captain Reynolds, he wouldn't mind getting an opportunity to pay a little of that back.

"Now, I don't trust these boy's much further than I could spit em, so I want you to take this."

Mal handed Simon a small black box. "What is it," the boy asked.

"It's half of a two way transmitter. Anything seem even a little bit fishy to you, press that red button, Jayne an' me'll come fetch you."

"Captain," Simon said, mystified by this sudden concern. "Ignoring the rather obvious question of 'Why are you carrying a transmitter in your pocket.' If you're so concerned about me, why are you letting me go?"

"I don't own you doctor," Mal said. "You can go or stay as you like."

Simon hesitated for a moment, "If a man's dying," he finally said slowly. "I should go."

Mal smiled and placed the transmitter in Simon's hand. "Like I said, I know these men," he said. "I'll be waitin' on you."

To be continued . . .

(Please Review)


	4. How It Is

How it is 

_Our dear Father, who art throughout the heavens, praise and glory be to thy name.  Your graciousness overwhelms me, your mercy gives me life, your joy gives me strength.  May your name be praised on every earth, may every star hear your children call 'Glory to God in the Highest.'  And Lord, I ask specially, that your name be praised and your work be done on my ship, on Serenity._

_*   *   *_

            Harpper's Point spun through space elegantly.  Sitting on a giant asteroid Harpper, the domed city never saw the same stars two nights in a row.  With a circumference of nearly 100 kilometers, there was room enough for sixty ships to dock at a time.  Though it claimed to be a simple fueling station when the Alliance asked, the place was known to Captains and cutthroats around the known planets to be a den of debauchery as well as a place of business.  Serenity, she was going there to get some fuel.  Inara and Kaylee, with River in their wake, were going there to play dress up.  Zoe and Wash were going there to relax.  Jayne was going there for a good time.  But the Captain, he was going there to get them a job, and good Doctor Tam had already found one.

*   *   *

            Kaylee's hands flew to her neck.  "Really, he said that?"

            "Yes," Inara said with a coy smile.  "It shows good breeding.  You should have heard what Wash said."

            "Well, what makes a neck pretty?" the young engineer said, feeling her throat trying to figure out exactly what in it could be admirable.  

            "The curve," Inara said helpfully, "the length.  If you think about it, properly accentuated, the neck really can be alluring."

            "Accentuated how?" Kaylee asked.  "With necklaces?"

            "And a dress cut properly," Inara said.  "Don't worry, we'll be sure to find something that makes your neck look elegant."

            Kaylee laughed and looked away, "I feel so silly . . ."

            "No," Inara insisted. "Don't. There's nothing wrong in wanting men, or a man in particular, to notice you."

            "I know," Kaylee said, her cheeks were bright red, "I just . . ." Her attention was suddenly pulled away as River's nervous face peeped around the corner of the dressing room.   "Hey, sweetie," Kaylee said kindly, "Let's see how ya look."

            Very timidly, River stepped out of the dressing room and stood in front of Kaylee and Inara, who had been relaxing and talking in overstuffed arm chairs for nearly twenty minuets while the girl gathered the nerve to model her new outfit.

            "Aw, River, that looks great!" Kaylee said excitedly. "Inara, Don'that look great?" 

            "It seems to give her life," Inara observed.  "Yellow is definitely your color, sweetheart."

            River didn't say anything, she just blushed and nervously garbbed at the edges of the short black ruffled skirt.  

            "You won't be to cold, will you River?" Inara said, pushing herself out of the deep chair with some effort.  "We could get a shirt to go under this."

            River shook her head, "I like it," she said so softly that Kaylee, who was struggling to get out of her chair, didn't hear her.

            "Maybe a shawl, then," Inara said, examining River and wondering what Simon would think.  The ruffled black cotton skirt cut off about an inch or so from the girls knee. Above the skirt was a yellow corset made primarily out of velvet and accented with black lace.  It was not anything Inara would have ever worn herself, but she had a feeling that the protective doctor would take one look at the outfit and decide the Companion was a bad influence on his sweet innocent sister.

            "Tha's just so bright," Kaylee said.  Finally free from the chair she wondered around the girl to get the full affect of the outfit. "I mean, I know it's silly 'cause it's mostly black, but River, you look cheery.  It's nice.  You look nice."

            River blushed and started chewing on her lower lip, "Thank you," she muttered softly.

            "Well, I think we've found River's dress," Inara said, placing her hand on the girl's head and running it down the long brown hair as she tuned to the engineer with an expectant smile. "Now it's Kaylee's turn.  I don't suppose, River, that you know what kind of dresses Simon likes?"  
            River looked at Inara like she was crazy, "Simon doesn't wear dresses."

            Inara opened her mouth to clarify but she didn't get the chance.  Kaylee burst into laughter.  

            "Kaylee," Inara said, "Are you all right?"

            "Fine," Kaylee gasped, "Just, she said that an' I got this picture in my head a Simon in a pretty calico skirt an' . . ." she was lost in her laughter.

            "Simon doesn't have a calico skirt," River said, a little more insistently.  "He doesn't wear dresses."

            Inara drew her hand to her mouth and tried to hold back her own stream of giggles.

*   *   *

            Kurt and his two companions, Vio (who said very little) and Izard (who had the money), escorted Simon through Old Cash's ship, the Betty-Lou.  It was easily ten times the size of Serenity, and much cleaner.  Simon was sure that, somewhere, there were dark oily corners and metal catwalks with sharp edges.  But everything on the Betty-Lou looked clean and neat, like the world Simon was used to.  This place was not a place of surprises, death didn't lurk in the shadows and insanity didn't roam these halls.  The ship seemed full of people, men and women in bright blue jumpsuits, all going about their business, ignoring the doctor.  The place felt crowded, busy.  In short it was everything Serenity was not.  And when they reached their destination, the Captain's quarters, Simon realized why.  Old Cash was everything that Malcolm Reynolds was not.

            "Di'ja _er bai wu's bring the __meg gu sai fu?" An strong voice folded in the darkness of the plush room said.  _

            "Yes sir, Li'll Cash" Izard said promptly.  "This here doctor was trained in Capitol City.  Real good find."

            "City doctor?" Li'll Cash snorted.  As Simon's eyes adjusted to the darkness he realized that there was a bed with a large fat man on it, presumably Old Cash.  Next to the bed a younger fat man, presumably Li'll Cash, was sitting with a large riffle on his knee.  "Let's see him, Vio, let's have some light."

            Vio didn't answer but soon the room was flooded with bright light, Simon had to blink a few times before he could see properly.  The two Cash's were defiantly related, probably father and son.  The older Fat man was jaundice, drenched in sweat and unconscious.  Simon broke away from his guard and speed to the large man.  The first thing the doctor noticed was a large, blood soaked bandage on the right side of the man's lower abdomen.  Simon carefully started removing the bandages to look at the wound and assess the damage.  "How long ago did this happen?"

The Doctor's question was ignored.  Instead Li'll Cash stood and leveled his rifle at Simon's head.  "You're gonna make my father better," the younger man said gruffly.

            Simon glanced up from his very urgent, very delicate work.  "I'm going to try."

            "That wasn't a request," the man said, cocking the gun.  "That was an order."

To Be Continued . . . 

(Please Review!!)


	5. Speculation

**Speculation **

*   *   * 

_Dear Lord, I pray for our Captain, Malcolm Reynolds.  I thank you for his good and generous heart, for his noble spirit and his righteous judgement. But, dear Lord, you know he has a troubled soul.  I pray you can grant him some kind of peace.  In your love shower him with your never ending mercy, that he might know he is forgiven of the sins he committed, and grant him your eternal grace, that he might learn to know you and see that you never abandoned him, not even in his darkest hour, and that you have great plans for his life. I praise you for the good he has done and the good he has yet to do.  Walk with him, guide him, in wisdom and charity, that he might be a soldier for you, even if he dose so unawares._

_*   *   *_

            Captain Reynolds had a second drink.  The bar tender, a cute little vixen with curly blond hair, and thin pink lips winked at him.  He couldn't quite bring himself to wink back at her.  She sent him a poutty expression, made even sadder because she didn't have the lips to pout with.  He ignored her pout and, with a sigh, she went back to her work.  Soon she was winking at a group of young men who were laughing loudly on the other side of the bar.  Mal didn't mind at all, he just wanted to sit with his drink.  Sit and listen.

            "All I'm sayin is how," one of the blue suited lackeys from the Betty-Lou said.  

Mal didn't know this particular crewman, which wasn't surprising.  Old Cash had long ago worked out a system where he'd pick up desperates and drifters from all sorts of planets and employ (or maybe a better word would have been enslave) them for years until they 'worked off their debt.'  The way Mal heard it, a person's 'debt' was usually directly proportional to how useful they were.  A kid who turned out to have a mind for the engine could have a 'debt' of fifteen years, while a dope who was only clever enough to clean floors usually worked off their 'debt' in a few months. 

A guy like Simon Tam, young, naive, used to civilization; he'd be an easy snag for Old Cash, if Reynolds hadn't clearly marked the doctor as his own. And Old Cash was no kinda master for a kid with such a valuable sister.  She'd be sold back to the Alliance in a heartbeat, and, for his freedom, Simon would have to payoff a 'debt' that would last the rest of the young boy's life.  Malcolm Reynolds believed in freedom; he believed in it with more passion than he believed that he was a man who sometimes dreamed he was a butterfly, not the other way around. So, Mal couldn't let the Tams be trapped liked that, no matter how much trouble it would be to mix it up with the Betty-Lou.

            "Old Cash's always protected by least three guards, you know that," the lackey continued.  "I think one'a them must'a done it."

            "No way," a second lackey said.  "You know how you get that kinda job?  You gotta risk your life to save one'a the Cash's.  Them's boy's as loyal as they come."

            "Somebody had to stab the man," the first lackey said.  "Old Cash sure didn't stab himself."

            "You're talkin' betrayal?  Well who?  We got Izard, who's dived infron'ta mor'in one bullet fer the old man.  We got Vio, who couldn't be smart-nuff to get away with any kinda dark plot.  An' we got Kurt, Li'll Cash's best bud.  Why would any'a them wanna off Old Cash?"

            "If I were you two," A third Lackey said, very quietly.  "I wouldn't speculate about any of this stuff."

            "Why not?" the first Lackey asked.  "It's our ship, our captain.  I wanna know what happened.  And, hey, you think if Old Cash dies we're outa our debts."

            "I doubt it," the Second lackey said.  "You know how Li'll Cash is, wors'in his pa."

            "I jus' don' think this a good thing ta be discussin'" the third lackey muttered.  "You never know who's listenin' an' I wouldn't wanna be heard sayin' somethin' 'gainst someone 'portant.  Tha's all I'm sayin'."

*   *   *

            "Alright, Mr. Cash," Simon said, carefully examining the stab wound.  It was in his right side, just under his rib cage, deep, very very deep.  There was a thick layer of fat, and then mussel, which was bleeding profusely.  The diaphragm had been injured, which accounted for the heaving breaths, and Simon couldn't be sure, but the heavy bleeding lead him to believe that there was at least some liver damage.  The diaphragm was the most pressing problem, there was the question of fluid in the lungs at present and, eventually, a lung could collapse.  The liver damage was serious too, you couldn't live without your liver.  But Simon couldn't help but think that there was something else going on.  The symptoms didn't quite fit the injures.

            "How long ago did this happen?" Simon asked again.

            "We found him like this this morin'" Izard said.  "Some _huai__ dan stabbed 'im while he was sleepin'."_

            "This morning," Simon breathed. His hands were shaking. Captain Reynolds might have told Simon he'd be murdered if he'd let Kaylee die, but at least Mal had been polite enough to keep his gun in it's holster while Simon had performed surgery. It was very hard to concentrate with a riffle pointed at his head right on the edges of his peripheral vision. 

            The doctor considered, for a moment, slipping his hand in his pocket and calling on Mal and Jayne to come save him, but he quickly dismissed the thought.  The only complement Captain Reynolds had ever paid the young doctor was to say he wasn't weak.  Simon didn't exactly cherish that sliver of praise, but on the other hand, he'd hate to see Mal retract it.  He could deal with a gun pointed at his head, he'd just have to keep his wits about him was all. 

"How long ago, exactly," Simon asked, glancing up at Li'll Cash. "Four hours, five?"

            "'Bout," 

            Simon sighed, "Do you have an infirmary?"

"We don't got a doctor," Li'll Cash said.  "Why would we have an infirmary?"

            Simon took a deep breath.  "Alright, I'll work here.  I'm going to need  . . ." the doctor absentmindedly ran his bloody fingers through his hair, "everything," he muttered.

            "What you sayin' doc?" Li'll Cash demanded.

            Simon took a deep breath.  "If you really want me to save your father this room is going to have to turn into an O.R. stat.  That means more light, a lot more light.  An instruments, I'd like a, ah, a protoscaner, a laser saw, at least two pinchers, Twenty CC's of dope, Indialmephazine if you can get it, some anti-biotics amoxiacillin should be fine, and the thinnest surgeons poly-themo thread you can get, 6 N.M. if at all possible, and a needle."

            "An' wher we suppos' to get all this?" Li'll Cash asked gruffly.

            "I don't care," Simon said.  "If you want him to live through the night, you'll find them."

            "You got that Izard, Vio?"

            "Yes sir Mr. Cash," Izard said.  "We'll fetch it right quick."

            "Make sure he get's it," Li'll Cash said. For reasons that Simon could not vocalize, that order sent chills up his spine.  He was longing for Serenity and the devil he knew.

To Be Continued . . . 

(yes, I know they're short chapters, don't worry, it'll be continued soon.  Don't forget to review)


	6. Things to Come

**Things to Come**

*   *  *

_Dear God, I pray for Inara.  She has such a giving heart, she loves so much, and yet, it seems she doesn't understand how much she is loved.  Dear God, I pray you show her that she is more than her body, her looks, her training.  I pray that you can make her see that what she does is wrong, not because of abstract rules and unmovable morality, but because she is too precious to put a price on.  Please, Lord, let her see that you covet her, long for her purity of body and spirit so that you can grow closer to her.  She is a good person, Lord, good and Kind and generous.  I praise you for her and I pray that she could understand how you see her, as far, far too valuable to be sold, no matter what the price._

_*   *   *_

            "My lips," Inara explained to the older woman at the cosmetic's counter.  "I want them to look fuller."

            "Well dearie," the old woman, who wore makeup as if she were a young woman, there by accentuating all the faults in her face, "You're lips look just lovely to me.  That's a very fine shade, do you use a brush?"

            "Yes," Inara said.  "But I'm wondering if maybe a lighter color, perhaps more defined lip liner, a shinier gloss . . ."

            "You know, sweetie, you're so pretty, if I was as pretty as you I wouldn't wear makeup."

            Inara forced herself to smile.  This was her fault, she really did know better than to ask such an obviously ignorant woman for beauty tips.  "Well, thank you for your time, I certainly keep it under advisement," she said pleasantly, turning around in something of a huff.  

This was the third store she'd visited and none of the clerks had been able to suggest anything to make her lips fuller or more beautiful.   Obviously her lips weren't perfect.  There should have been something she was able to do.  

As she walked out of the little boutique expecting to see Kaylee's eager face and River's somewhat dazed expression waiting for her at the door.  But they weren't there.  Inara stepped into the walkway a little further and scanned the area.  River and Kaylee were nowhere to be seen.  Perhaps if one of them alone had disappeared Inara would have been worried, but since they disappeared together, she was just annoyed. 

She took another step out and looked again, finally she saw them (technically she saw the large bright red hooded jacket they'd bought for River too keep her warm) on the other side of the walkway in a shadowy ally between two stores. As the Companion got closer she saw that Kaylee was holding both the girls hands as River trembled violently.  

            "Shhh, shhh," Kaylee said softly, reaching up to stroke River's hair comfortingly.  "Don't worry, he's with the Cap'in.  He's fine."

            "What's the matter?" Inara asked softly as she approached.  

            "She's worried about Simon," Kaylee said, tossing a concerned glance towards Inara.  "Fer no reason I cen see."

            "He's scared," River whispered.  "And he's alone."

            "Hush," Kaylee soothed, pulling the girl into a warm hug.  "I told you, Simon an' the Cap'in are together.  Even if Simon is scared, he's not alone.  You'll see 'im soon enough, don' worry."

            "Kay," River muttered.  Inara could see it in the girl's eyes that she didn't believe a word.

*   *   *

            Simon was surprised most by the sound.  He fully expected the pain and the dizziness and even, to a point, the nausea.  Those were medical symptoms congruent with the injury he'd sustained.  But he never thought that he'd hear the low wet thud of a riffle but against his skull.  He was so surprised by the sound that he didn't notice the floor rushing towards him until he was flat on his back.  Simon blinked a few times and took several gasping breaths, trying to get the world to focus.  When he finally felt able he rolled over, pushed himself onto his knees and pressed his right hand over the bloody mess on his forehead.  "Ar'you tot'ly 'nsane!" He said. Even he thought his voice sounded slurred.

            "I don't take kindly to insults," Li'll Cash said.

            "Want I should hit him again?"

            "The sur'st way ta kill y'r fa'r 's t'hurt me," Simon said, trying to be coherent and feeling that he was failing.  He closed his eyes and forced every word out enunciating impeccably. "If you think I can help him with a concussion, you're wrong."

            "I jus' wanted you to know I was serious, hav' som'in ta think on while you're workin'."

            "Maybe severe beatings inspire grunt laborers," Simon said.  His breath was coming in heaves, he could feel blood pulsing out of the gash on his forehead, but he was able to force a sort of clarity of thought. Or, at least, what seemed like clarity of thought.  Adrenaline flooded his brain, mixing with the pain and fear and making him foolishly bold.  "But trauma surgery takes a great deal of concentration and a gapping head wound tends to be distracting."

            "I don't like bein' scolded by people's whos . . ."

            "And I don't like," Simon said loudly cutting Li'll Cash off.  "Being browbeaten when I have a job to do!  I want to save his life!"

            "Well, Doctor, if you say so."

            "That's what I'm saying," Simon voice was icy.   

            "Jes, you were askin' so many questions," Li'll Cash said, sounding reasonable and detached.  "I thou't your mind might'a been strayin' a might."

            Simon blinked: questions?  He tried to remember what questions he'd asked that had been retaliated so violently.  He'd asked when Old Cash had been discovered, what state he'd been in, who'd set the bandages and if they had the knife.  That's when he'd been hit.

            "So," Simon said very carefully, pushing himself up to a standing position.  "You don't know who did this."

            "I don' see how tha's any a your concern," Li'll Cash said.  "You keep talkin' and you are likely to find yourself on the floor again with another gapin' head wound."

            "Yes sir," Simon said softly and bitterly as he continued his examination. It was taking a good deal of his concentration just to keep his eyes focused, his hands steady and his feet under him.  Soon Izard would be back with his instruments and he'd have to perform minor surgery, mostly examining the damage and stitching together whatever had been ripped apart.  As far as wounds went, this one wasn't terribly bad.  The thick layer of fat seemed to have kept the knife from reaching and severely damaging the internal organs.  There was just so much blood.  

            But the man was running a high fever, which was odd, and he was jaundiced, which was odd, and he'd passed out, which was odd.  The whole thing seemed to Simon as odd.  He thought, for a moment, about pressing the button on the transmitter in his pocket.  He'd been assaulted, Mal probably would understand wanting to get out of there, and theses unusual symptoms certainly made the doctor's mind wonder if there was more foul play that was immediately apparent.  Simon decided to set his jaw and press on, if only he'd been able to keep his hands from trembling.

*   *   *

            River was curled up in a little ball, her red jacket wrapped around her legs, her hood pulled over her head so that the whites of her eyes were the only things visible in the darkness. As Kaylee modeled her dress she couldn't help but find the girl's stance unnerving.  If Inara was bothered by it, the Companion was hiding her malaise beautifully.  

            "Well?" Kaylee asked, letting her hands slide down her waist and hips as she felt the way the silk wrapped its way around her curves.  The dress was very simple, with a low v-neck, a sash around the wais, a back made entirely of pink silk straps.  The pink and green paisley pattern was plain and cheerful, the silk and lace accents were elegant, and it fit Kaylee like a glove.

Inara let out a low whistle,  "You look amazing."

Kaylee blushed and started chewing on her lower lip, "Really?"

"Yes," Inara said, pushing herself quite easily off of the stiff couch this boutique offered its clientele.  Inara had been sitting, watching a string of outfits as the engineer tried to decide what style, what color, what cut to get.  She'd tried on everything from long flowing dresses with ruffles and adornments to short tight skirts with revealing corsets.  But this was the only outfit that drew all the attention to Kaylee's ever smiling self, and not the clothes she was wearing. "What do you think?"

            "I think I'm gonna fall outa it."

            "You won't," Inara said, smiling.  "Unless, of course, you decide to crawl through Serenity's engine room in it."

Kaylee nodded, "But then I'd be wearing my jumpsuit, so it wouldn't matter."

Inara laughed.  
            "Wa'da you think River?" Kaylee asked, walking up to the reddish bundle.  River didn't move.  Kaylee glanced nervously to Inara, who looked nervously back.  With a sharp intake of breath as Kaylee ignored the pain in her abdomen, she knelt down so that she could see through the dark overlap of the hood into the girl's eyes.  "Sweetie, Simon is fine."

"You look real pretty," River said softly.  "They want to kill him."

Kaylee suddenly felt cold all over.  "River, who would want to kill Simon?"

            "He's too smart," the girl said, trying to curl herself into a smaller ball.  "He's scared and he's alone."

            Kaylee had nothing to say to this, instead she turned to Inara, mouth opened, still reaching for a response.

            "We need to find Mal," the Companion said clearly.  "You look ravishing, Kaylee, really," She said, smiling graciously.  "We'll buy that and then we'll find Mal."

To be continued . . .

(keep reviewing please!)


	7. The Deal

**The Deal**

*  *   * 

_God, I pray also for our first mate, Zoe, and pilot Wash.  I praise you for them individually and as a couple.  I thank you for endowing Zoe with the greatest of all virtues, Loyalty, as well as courage and strength.  And Wash, I thank you for giving him a sense of humor, a child-like outlook.  They are a blessing to the ship, the backbone and the funnybone, the strength and the heart.  Lord, please bless them, keep Zoe out of harms way, keep __Wash__'s skills quick and sure.  But most of all Lord, I pray, bless their marriage.  Let it be an inspiration to all who look upon it in this time of trial and uncertainty.  Love, no matter it's form, glorifies you, the Lord of Love, so I praise you for their love, and I pray their love may increase, as your love increases towards your bride, the church._

_*   *   *_

             "She's not a racer, but she's dependable," Mal said.  "An' she ain't never failed to do a job.  Now, to Flagstone would take about two weeks, give or take a day."

            "Why give or take?" Michele "Puffer" Newvack said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.  "Why not exactly?"  

            "I just ain't sure 'bout asteroids, other ships, that sort of thing.  No reason to suspect we'd get there in any more'in Fourteen days." Mal said, realizing that he'd never seen a man with more yellowed teeth.  "That a problem?"

            "No," Newvack said, shaking his head.  "Seems reasonable.  Now, you know, tobacco is outlawed on Flagstone." He let out a long puff of curling white smoke.  "Say it's bad for the health."

            "Do they?" Mal said, forcing himself not to cough.

            "Yeah, that won't be a problem, will it?"

            "Why should it be?"

            "Jus' if you were to get boarded by customs at Flagstone you might have a hard time explaining yourself."

            "For starters," Mal said very clearly, "There ain't no call to insult my crew by insinuating we might get caught with our proverbial pants down by some customs officers.  We've had valuable cargo before an' been boarded by an official Alliance raiding party in cold space.  They looked everywhere for it, even under the gorramn placemats on the dining room table, but they didn't find the goods."

            "You dump 'em?"

            "Now what good would that'a done me?  Serenity's got her tricks and so do I.  If we get boarded, they won't find a thing an I can guarantee you your cargo'll be safe as houses."

            "If you don't mind my asking," Newvack said. "What kind a cargo where you carrying?" 

            "You can ask all you want, I'm afraid I can't tell you.  Suffice to say it was more dangerous and more valuable than a few smokes and a little chew," Mal said, his tone making it clear that the topic was closed.

            "How much would you charge to run my cargo to Flagstone?"

            Mal pretend to consider the variables, the distance, the risk, the wear and tear on the ship, the manpower required.  "I'd say One ten."

            "One ten?" Newvack laughed.  "You're joking."

            "What price were you thinking?"

            "I couldn't see paying more than eighty."

            "Eighty?" Mal asked, glancing around the room and letting out a loud laugh.  "You could maybe, maybe find a ship to carry that Cargo for eighty.  'Course, It'll take a month to get there, with at least two stops at a fueling station along the way."

            "Eighty Five."

            "Couldn't do it for less than a hundred, not a chance."

            "Ninety,"

            "I said a hundred and I mean a hundred, I got a crew needs feedin'."

            "Are you trying to tell me you're a family man, Captain?"

            "I'm trying to tell you that a hundred's a steal.  You won't get a better offer."

            There was a pause as the yellow toothed tobacco trader examined the Captain.  This was the most important part of the negotiations.  Mal knew that if he blinked, if he flinched, if he demonstrated anything less than total control he would be haggled down to ninety at best.  Granted, Serenity could do the trip for ninety, but Kaylee would have to make do without a power converter or Zoe and Wash would have to accept another IOU for their monthly wages.  Not that they'd mind, but Mal just didn't feel right doing that to them.  Mal starred at Puffs unflinchingly.

            "Alright," Newvack finally said.  "Hundred.  Fifty now, fifty later."

            "Sounds fair," Mal said, reaching over the table to shake the man's yellow tipped hands.

            "How soon can we load it?"

*   *   *

            "Will'e live?"  Izard asked, his voice full of genuine concern.

            They were standing outside of Old Cash's room waiting.  Simon was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, praying that the pounding headache would eventually stop pounding.  He had considered taking some dope, but thought better of it.  He needed to be as alert as possible in case there was some sudden complication to the surgery or the psychopaths running the Betty-Lou decided to kill him; both of which seemed extremely likely.  He considered pulling the transmitter out of his pocket and signaling the Captain, saying he was ready to go home.  But Old Cash wasn't out of the woods yet, Simon felt duty bound to stay until he was, one way or the other.

"I don't know," Simon said, leaning against the wall and burying his face in his hands.    "I, I stopped the hemorrhaging but . . . it just . . . he should be all right, but then, he shouldn't be as badly off as he is."

            "Wha're you implying?" Kurt demanded.

            Simon blinked a few times, looked at Kurt and then shook his head.  "I wouldn't imply," he said, closing his eyes.

            "Then," Kurt said, pulling a revolver out of a hip holster.  "What were you sayin?"

            "Mr. Cash's symptoms don't match his injuries," Simon said. "If they did I'd be willing to say that he'd pull through, the damage isn't that bad.  But, since they don't, I can't say."

            "Which way are you leanin'?" Izard asked.

            "Honestly," Simon said, taking a deep breath.  "Unless I can find the reason for these symptoms, I don't think . . ." 

            Kurt cocked his gun.

            Simon's slower-than-par brain finally registered the firearm.  He opened his eyes to find the barrel pointing directly at him. For a moment he looked at it, puzzled, and then glanced up at Kurt.  "If you kill me he doesn't have a chance."

            "If he don't have a chance, I sees no reason not ta kill ya."

            "Are you insane?" Simon asked, more curious than upset.  "Because that doesn't seem to make . . ."

            "I don' take kindly to insults," 

            "I feel like I just had this conversation," Simon muttered, resting his pulsing head in his hand.  

            "Kurt, put the gun away," Izard ordered.  "Can't you see the doctor is already _fei__ chang jin zang?"_

            "It sounds to me like he's got some damn insidious notions."

            "It sounds to me like he's gotten hit on the head once too often by you."

            "Could you argue more quietly?" Simon asked, pressing on his eyes in hopes of reliving the ever-worsening pounding in his head.

            If either Izard or Kurt heard him, they didn't pay any attention.  Vio, at least, had the decency to not say a word.  Simon pulled his knees up to his chest, folded his arms over them, and buried his head, hoping against hope that the torrent around him would either die down or blow somewhere else.  And, for a heartbeat, it seemed to.  There was a bang, like a door opening, and suddenly the two bickering bodyguards were silent.  Not even a second had elapsed and Simon found himself being luged viciously to his feet by Li'll Cash.

            "My father's dead you _liu__ man er bai wu meng gu dai fu!"_

            "Dead?" Simon asked breathlessly, terror quickly overpowering the pounding in his head.  

            "You said you'd save him," Li'll Cash spat. 

            "Let go," Simon muttered, struggling out of Li'll Cash's grip and pushing himself into Old Cash's bedroom.  There, laid out on the bed, was Old Cash.  Simon rushed to the body and took the pulse.  There was nothing.  

For a moment Simon toyed with the idea of trying to resuscitate him, but that was foolish.  The stress on the chest would undoubtedly re-open the wound to the diaphragm and cause internal bleeding while whatever unknown agent was causing the high fever and the jaundice would not have left the body.  Simon took a deep breath, glanced at a clock on the wall, and out of habit announced; "Time of death fifteen forty eight."  

He reached up to close Old Cash's eyes when he noticed something.  The old man's nose was broken.  It wasn't very obvious because it had happened mere seconds before death, there was no bruising to speak of and no blood.  But the crookedness was unmistakable.  

Simon licked his lips and casually glanced around the room.  There was a large pillow with a satin case lying conspicuously on the floor near the bed.  Simon didn't know where it came from, but he was sure it hadn't been there before.  

            Suddenly the whole situation, the unexplainable symptoms, the inadequate supplies and the illogical abuse made perfect sense.  "_Dah__ Bien," he muttered._

To be continued . . .

(keep reviewing please!)


	8. Course of Action

**Course of Action**

_Sweet Jesus, I pray now for Jayne. . . . Jayne, where to begin?  I thank you, Lord, for him.  He's saved my life many times.  But still, Lord, he closes himself off, he auctions himself off, he pushes away everyone, especially those who would love him.  Lord, I do not know what to pray for, so I will simply ask that you move in his life, however you will.  Your will be done._

_*    *    *_

            Mal and 'Puffs' were enjoying a leisurely cigar to celebrate their deal.  They were good cigars, Mal had to admit, and good cigars were damn hard to come by.  If he'd know he'd get a cigar out of the deal, he might have been willing to settle for ninety.  "I like cigar's," Newvack said slowly, savoring the smoke that came out with his breath.  "Because they are masculine.  A woman can smoke a ciggie, but not a cigar, that's a gentleman's pleasure."

            Mal, who had not treatises on any tobacco product, just sucked in another lungful and enjoyed the full, bitter, musty taste.  "Hey, you know how to blow smoke rings?" he asked Puffs gamely.  "I had'a man under me in the war, Grunt named Tinner. He'd always blow em ta impress the girls.  Always meant to ask him how he did it."

            "It's all in the tongue," Puffs said, demonstrating.  

            "Really, you, ah, you curl it?" Mal said, trying his luck.  The smoke exited his mouth in an unimpressive cloud.

            "The idea is to create the ring in your mouth and then let it float out."

            "Ring in your mouth?" Mal said.  He inhaled again and tried to create a ring of smoke with his tongue in the middle.  He opened his mouth and, again, an unimpressive cloud floated out.

            "It's not an easy trick to learn."

            "Yeah," Mal coughed.  The smoke had been in his mouth too long.  He coughed some more.

            "Didn't you know that smoking is bad for your health," Inara's ever-pleasant voice chimed over the Captain's shoulder.  Mal, through his coughing, saw Newvack's eyes go wide as he beheld the beautiful Companion.

            "Hey Inara," Mal said, wiping the tears from his eyes and wishing there was a pitcher of water near by.  "I thought you were going shopping."

            "We are shopping," Inara said, walking around the table so she could face Mal.  "Kaylee's buying River some boots."

            "Oh, about that, I got some money for . . ." he reached into his pockets to pull out a few of the bills he'd received from Old Cash's men.  

            "I don't want your money, Captain."

"Oh, it's not mine, it's the doc's, he . . ."

            "Where is the Doctor?"

            Mal leaned forward, annoyed.  "What does it matter?"

            "River needs him," Inara said.

            "She must not need him too much if she's buying shoes."

            "I don't have time for this. Where is Simon?"

            Mal took a deep breath, "I lent him out."

            "You lent him out?!" Inara said, enunciating every word with cold precession.  "He is not a shuttle; you can't just lend him out."

            "He could'a said no if he wanted."

            "Did he know that?"

            "As a matter of fact he did," Mal snapped. "What kind of _lok__ chat do you take me for?"_

            "Oh, Mal, you're your own special kind."

            "Hey," Mal said, not faining his hurt.  "These men come up to me, say 'our captain's dieing you think we could use your doctor?' I said 'Yes.'"  He took another puff of his cigar.  "I's the only decent thing to do.  I'm sure the kid's fine."

            "And River's sure he's not," Inara clipped.  "The least you could do is come and tell her what you did."

            "Fine," Mal sighed.  He took one last drag on his cigar before putting it in the ashtray.  "It was a pleasure doin' business.  Hope to again," he said to Newvack.  "Crew emergency, you understand."

            "I understand perfectly, Catptain Reynolds," Newvack said, standing to shake Mal's hand again.  "I couldn't say no to her either."

*   *   *

            "What killed him?" Li'll Cash asked.  

            "His treacherous son," Simon answered, slipping his hand into pocket and feeling for the transmitter. Kurt then quickly demonstrated to the young doctor that there was no such thing as a painless truth by punching the boy in the gut.  Simon gasped and fell to his knees, his hand flew out of his pocket as he tried to catch himself and the transmitter slid across the floor.  Simon watched it with a sinking sense of terror.  

"Capi'n Reynolds wan' you to keep in touch?" Kurt asked as the small black box hit his boot.  Simon didn't say anything, he didn't have the breath to speak.  That was probably for the best, because his pathetic 'please don't' would have fallen on ears that thought such pleas aught to be punished with quick blows to the head.  Kurt lifted his heavy boot and crushed the small plastic and mettle box.  Simon heard a series of cracks which might as well have been his death knoll. 

            He was so distracted by the destruction of the transmitter that he didn't notice the drama going on directly to his right.

"Of course," Izard said, turning to Li'll Cash.  "You _Hong yan bing huai dan.  You murdered your Father! __Poq__ Gai!"_

            "No," Li'll Cash said calmly as Kurt and Vio aimed their revolvers at Izard.  "You did, you _baw__ lan jiao liu man."_

            There were four bangs, which drew Simon's horrified attention.  He watched, wide eyed, as Izard's body hit the floor with a sickening thud.  The Doctor wanted to do something but, despite all his brilliance and training, the only thing he could think to do was close his eyes and wait for the built that would kill him.  It didn't come.

            "On your feet, doc," Li'll Cash said, as Vio grabbed Simon's arm and hauled the young man to a standing position.  

            "What?" Simon gasped.  "Too honorable to kill a man on his knees?"

            "I don't give a damn how you die, Doctor," Li'll Cash said.  "Jus' so long as i's slow an' painful, like my father's death."

            Simon stared at Li'll Cash for a second and then shook his head, "Totally psychotic," he muttered.  "Criminally insane."

            "_Gun dan," Li'll Cash, or perhaps just Cash now, spit and Vio hauled the dazed doctor out of the room._

*   *   *

            River screamed.  You could hear it up and down the street.  People stopped too look at her, people got out of her way.  The girl ran blindly, or so it seemed.  Possibly away from the girl who was chasing her, but River had far outdistanced her pursuer.  No one was quite daring enough to try and stop the crazed red, yellow and black streak, with the rather important exception of Captain Reynolds.

            "_Sha__ ya tou," The captain muttered, extending his arm and scooping her out of her path.  "Hey there River, where you flowin'?"_

Halted, just for a moment, was enough to jar the girl out of her mad panic.  She clung to Mal's arm and collapse onto the ground in sobs.  Mal was dragged down with her, so that he was kneeling over her.  Inara looked on, very worried.

            "Hush," Mal said awkwardly, stroking the girl's hair because it seemed like the only thing to do.  "It's all right."

            "They're killing him." River sobbed.  "He dieing."

            "Your brother ain't diein'," Reynolds asserted, pulling himself up and River with him.  "An' I can prove it."  He reached into his pocket.

            "Mal you don't know where Simon is," Inara said.  "How could you possibly . . ."

            "I know exactly were Simon is," Mal snapped, pulling a little black box out of his pocket.  "An' this here transmitter 'ill prove that you girl's are worrin' over nothin'."

            "They stepped on Simon's," River said softly.

            Mal, ignoring the girl, pulled the transmitter up to his mouth and pushed the button.  "Doctor, your there?  Doc?"

            The only answer was static.

            "Doctor?" Mal said, starting to feel a little uncomfortable.  "_Hen ga tsan, boy, answer!"_

            "I don't think he's there Mal," Inara said, her voice was trembling a little.

            River, having had enough of this useless small talk, grabbed Mal's arm and started pulling him in the direction she'd been madly running, towards the docking ring. "Simon is dieing!" she insisted.  

Mal opened his mouth to argue with her, point out that there was no way to be sure.  All they knew was that, for some reason, Simon hadn't answered. It was possible that the only thing wrong was the doctor couldn't figure out which button to push to answer, or maybe he was in the middle of surgery or something and couldn't be bothered.  But as he looked at River the girl's eyes looked back up at him and he could see nothing but clarity and conviction.  He couldn't dismiss her.

            Mal swallowed hard, trying to get down his pride and better sense.  "You know where he is?"

            River nodded fervently.

            "Well, then," Mal muttered, "Lead on."

            The girl almost smiled and started running down the street, dragging Malcolm Reynolds behind her.

To be continued . . .

(keep reviewing please!)


	9. The Daring Rescue

**The Daring Rescue **

_Dear God, I feel especially compelled to pray for young Simon right now.  Lord, he is confused, he is frightened, and he is lost; help him see the way.  Grant him your wisdom, that he might find a way to help his sister.  Grant him your peace, that he may come to terms with the new life he's found himself in.  Grant him strength, that he may never grow hopeless, or give up.  Grant him your love, that he might redeem his sister, who is as lost as he is.  Lord, bless his hands, which do your work.  Heal his heart, which aches and is broken from all he's lost.  Dear God, just take him into your hands and carry him as he goes through his trials.  These things can not be faced with only the strength of man, fill him with your spirit so that he can continue doing your work.  Please, Lord, keep Simon near to your heart._

_*   *   *_

            It is a fact that, if there is a prolonged irritation on one of the body's senses, an overpowering smell, an irritating itch, a droning noise, the brain, after a certain amount of time, will stop registering that irritation so that it can focus on more pressing matters.  Simon, knowing this, kept hoping that he would stop concisely hearing the slow incessant hiss that indicated the Carbon dioxide was being pumped into this room instead of oxygen.  But no matter how he tried to distract his mind he still heard the hiss of poison being pumped into the room.

            Simon considered, very briefly, going up to the metal door that led to the hallway and breathable air and pounding as hard as he could.  He was sure, though, that such an endeavor would be nothing but a waist of energy and oxygen.  He also toyed with the idea of finding air ducts or crawl spaces or whatever this ship had and sneaking out.  But then, for all he knew, crawl spaces and air ducts were mealy fictitious; inventions of pulp novelist to give their heroes a Deus Ex Machina means of escape.  As far as he had observed there were no crawl spaces on Serenity and what air ducts there were couldn't have helped anything larger than a rat escape. 

            The idea of rescue floated across his mind for a second, but then he dismissed it.  Captain Reynolds didn't know he was in trouble.  This was Simon's own fault, practically throwing the transmitter at the brute Kurt, so he couldn't even really be bitter at Mal.  

            Doctor sat, and struggled with the notion that he was going to die alone of suffocation in some back room of a ship named Betty-Lou and, in all likely-hood, his body would not be buried but rather dropped into cold space.  It was horrible to think about, horrible to realize.

            The hissing continued.  

            Simon tried to take relaxed, even breaths.

            He was worried about River who was, in a sense, the reason he was in his current situation.  He didn't regret for a second throwing away his life so that she could have one.  But he couldn't help but feel a little cheated.  He'd imagined what would happen when she woke up and saw him, her savior, standing there.  He'd imagined she'd run to him and hug him and cry on his shoulder.  He imagined that she'd talk the way she used to talk, her mind going so fast that her words meshed together.  He thought she'd tell him horror stories about experimental drug tracks and sleep depravation and shock therapy.  He thought she'd tell him everything and then she'd be the girl he remembered and everything would be all right.  He'd have his River back.

            But it had become abundantly clear to Simon that his River, the brilliant, articulate, joyful, little girl he'd grown up with, was gone forever.  He tried very hard not to cry because that took oxygen.

            His steady breaths were becoming shallower as his lungs began to burn.

            The hissing was getting louder.

            At least, Simon reasoned, River would be all right.  Not well off, but alive and free and with people who would take care of her.  He had no doubt that, in his absence, the crew of Serenity would adopt River as their own.  He didn't trust the majority of those people, but he knew Shepherd Book would insist on caring for the girl who was, in all practicality, an orphan. Kaylee would help too, she had such a large heart, she'd take in anything that was week and forlorn. And then Captain Reynolds would probably die protecting River, not because he had a particularly charitable or noble heart, Simon thought, but because he hated the Alliance so much.  He'd spite them any way he could.

            The hissing was so loud it blocked out almost all other thought.

            Simon's breath came in short, shallow gasps.  Darkness was spreading inward from the edges of his vision.  

            At least River would be all right.

*   *   *

            "I've come ta collect what's mine," Captain Reynolds said, leveling his gun at Kurt.  "Now if you wanna find yerself fulla led, you can stand there an' stonewall me.  But if yer smart, you'll step aside."

            "You said that Doct'r was big city.  Old Cash is dead, So's we gonna kill tha' boy.  Fair's fair."

            "You can't kill him," Mal said coldly.  "He's my doctor."

            "It's a shade to late fer that," Kurt said, with a sickening laugh.  "He's already dead."

            "He's not," River softly but with unquestionable authority.  

            "Where," Mal said, his voice hard and sharp with anger, "Is my doctor?"

            "'Spect that depends on whether or no he said his prayers," Kurt taunted.

            "He's not dead!" River screeched.

            "I believe this girl," Mal said.  "So's I'm gonna ask one more time polite.  Where is Simon Tam?"

            "Past your help," Kurt said, once more with a self-satisfied smile.

            "I been more than fair," Mal said, lowering his gun and firing blowing out Kurt's left knee.  The man howled with pain as he collapsed to the ground.  

            The man guarding the entrance to the Betty-Lou, who'd summoned Kurt in the first place, reached for his gun.  Mal, never taking his sites of Kurt who was writhing in pain, said, "I wouldn't do that son.  You got no loyalty to this ship or this man.  If you run off now, ain't nothin' no one could do 'bout it."

            The man didn't bolt off into the space station, like Mal had half expected him to.  But he didn't draw his gun either.  He just watched.

            "Now," Captain Reynolds said, pointing his gun more or less at Kurt's head, "I'm sick of askin' Tell me where to find my Doctor or by all that is dear to me I will end your life."

            "I tell you he's dead," Kurt said, between gritted teeth.  "Li'll Cash said to gas 'im, so we gased 'im."

            "Where?" Mal said, cocking his gun.

            "There's not time," River whimpered, pushing her way past Mal, jumping over Kurt and running into the clean, well lit hallways of the Betty-Lou.  

Mal quickly uncocked his gun, "Your damn lucky, Kurt." He muttered as he stood up.  "You kill that girls brother, and she saves your life."

*    *   *

            Over the ever-present hissing Simon heard a bang, like a gunshot, and then another bang, like a body hitting mettle, then a clink, like a latch opening.  Then a series of coughs as carbon dioxide assaulted the lungs of his saviors, as well as those who would murder him.  Simon felt like he should react to those sounds but the very notion of moving seemed painful.  

            He did, however, watch with some interest as a blur of red, yellow and black, came running up to him.  Soon a face which he assumed to be his mother's was floating in front of him, "Simon," the beautiful woman said, her long brown hair flowing around him like water from a waterfall, her soft hand's petting his face.  She coughed, which was an odd thing for the angelic image of his mother to do, but Simon didn't mind.  He smiled up at her weakly and tried to say something, but he didn't have the breath.  "You're ok," the beautiful face said between coughs and gasps.  "You can stop dying."

            Then the face was ripped away and a voice that was familiar but Simon couldn't place yelled, "There's not air in here, get out to the hall."  The voice coughed violently.  "I'll get your brother, now get!"

            Simon wanted to protest. He'd liked that face. He'd loved that face.  If he was going to die, he wanted to at least die with that face beside him. But the blur of yellow and red scampered into the hall, where it collapsed, coughing, and Simon felt the deck beneath him shift and the upside down image of Captain Reynolds suddenly appeared hovering over him.  The Captain seemed to be coughing and swearing simultaneously so that Simon couldn't understand anything he was saying. But whatever the captain had seemed to be catching, because Simon started coughing and gasping, and coughing again.  Very weakly at first, but as the doctor was dragged out of the room, tossed on the ground next to the bundle of red and yellow, his coughs and gasps became more violent as his lungs desperately tried to expel the carbon dioxide that had been accumulating and take in any Oxygen available.

            Through the violent respiratory fits Simon realized that the red/yellow blur was River.  He tried to say her name, tried to reach out to her, but he couldn't speak, he couldn't move.  All he could do was cough and gasp.  Yet, as if she'd read his mind, she, threw her on bought of coughs, crawled over to him. "You won't die now," She said, coughing as she lifted her brother to his knees.  "You're saved."

To be continued . . .

(It's not over, Book's still got praying to do.)

Authors note:  A lot of people have asked about the Chinese in this story.  Yes, it is real Chinese and I'm going to try to have attached at the end a translation page as a sort of appendix (I say try because I'm not sure I'm going to be able to remember or figure out exactly what each phrase is.  I'm doing it at the very end instead of at the end of each chapter because I like to be as true to the show as possible, and the show doesn't translate.


	10. River's Part

**River's Part**

_And, Lord, I pray for River. She, of all of us, is most desperately in need of your hand, and yet, I have the feeling that she is the closest to you.  I pray Lord, for healing, for comfort, for a silencing of the demons that haunt her eyes.  God, she is trapped inside herself, only through your Grace could she be free.  Please, God, grant her freedom, and if not freedom, than at least peace.  Lord, I beg you, don't let the child suffer any more than she already has.  Take her in your arms, as you have so many children before her, and wrap her in your healing love._

_*   *   *_

            "Come on, Come on," Mal urged as he, with River's help, hauled the doctor to his feet.  Simon looked bad, really bad, bad enough for Mal to feel guilty.  There was a nasty black bruise on the boys head, accented by a dark red, almost black mess that looked like a cut that wasn't going to heal up any time soon.  His skin was grayish as he gasped for breath and he leaned heavily on River as they stumbled down the hall and off the ship.  And they didn't have time to coddle the doctor back into good heath.  Kurt and Vio may have been dealt with in somewhat of a final manner, but Mal knew that there was still Li'll Cash to deal with, and that would be no easy task. The longer they dallied in the belly of the Betty-Lou, the more Mal came to dread it.

"River, you take the lead," Mal ordered. "See if you can get us outta here quick as you got us in."

"Captain," Simon gasped, as River slipped herself out from under her brother, leaving Mal to drag the weak doctor along. "River really . . ."

"Be quiet Doctor," Mal said sharply but kindly. "You ain't got enough breath in you to walk, don't be slowin' us down by tryin' to speak. Yer sister was clever enough to find her way to you; she'll be clever enough to find our way out."

Simon didn't answer, which was exactly what Mal hoped would happen.

They wound their way through the clean maze of hallways for about five minuets. Mal would have sworn it only took a few seconds to run to the room where Simon had been held. But he'd been running as fast as he could to keep up with the crazed River then, and now he was dragging her half dead brother, it seemed reasonable that it'd take more time. But not this much more time.

"Hey, River, y'lost?" Mal asked, hopping against hope the answer was no.

River turned around for just a second, placing her finger to her lips. "He sees and hears," she said very softly, before continuing to creep forward. They walked about another twenty paces, making too seemingly random turns before River froze.

"Psss," Mal Hissed. "We gotta keep moving."

"Checkmate," River muttered.

That's when Mal heard the click of a gun. "_Wan ba dan," he muttered, shaking his head bitterly as the barrel of a gun appeared from right around the next corner._

"You steelin' my doctor?" Li'll Cash asked, emerging from the shadows. 

Mal took a second to think very carefully about how he wanted to handle this. The answer was clear: he didn't want to handle this, not at all. This was a losing prospect. Still, better to go down fighting. He leaned Simon against the wall, freeing up his gun hand in case he'd need it, but of course, he was the only one with a gun, Li'll Cash would down him first, then get to executing the helpless Tams.

"He's my doctor," Mal asserted.

"You been leadin' me on a merry chase," Li'll Cash said with the mock admiration. Mal always wondered why some people felt like they had to justify themselves before they murdered you (or, perhaps attempted to murder you would be more accurate). Did these men have such low self-esteem that they had to talk themselves into doing everything, or were they really so self deluded that they could convince themselves that they were killing for a reason? It was just stupid, Mal thought. If you were going to kill a man, kill him quick and kill him clean. Pretension never did anybody any good. 

"This girl knows my ship 'bout well as I do. I'm not even going to ask how she learned it."

"Good," Mal said casually, reaching out carefully for River, who was staring at Li'll Cash with wide-eyed terror. If they lived thru this, which was by no means a guarantee, Mal would have to figure out a way to acclimate River to fire arms. A girl who is paralyzed with fear at the vary sight of a gun was the description of Liability.

He managed to grab the girls shoulder and tug her toward himself and Simon. 

"Tha's right," Li'll Cash muttered. "Pretty thing like that, I'd keep'er close too. Don't spose'll do me much good ta ask ya her name."

"Don't spose it would," Mal said, passing the girl to the Doctor, who was now standing, more or less, under his own power. He wrapped his arms around his sister protectively as he stared defiantly at the man who'd tried to murder him.

"So," Li'll Cash said, smiling wickedly. "'S this the Sister Kurt told me 'bout, th' one he killed for?"

"Don't see why you need know who she is," Mal said, edging his way between Li'll Cash and the siblings. "Your just gonna kill us all in a minuet or so."

"Oh, Reynolds, you got less time'n that," Li'll Cash said with a chuckle. "But that girl's no dummy, she don't talk much, and she's real pretty n' young. She might just be the perfect woman. The kinda woman a man might kill for."

That's when River screamed.

            Simon had claimed that River was naturally brilliant at every task she put her mind to. Screaming, apparently, was no exception. Her shriek was so loud, so sudden, and at such a high pitch that, for a second, Mal mistook it for a banshee wail that had stopped his heart. But that was only until his heart continued to beat, and then he saw his opportunity. Li'll Cash was also stunned by the girls blood curdling scream, but he wouldn't be forever. Barely taking the time to aim, Mal pulled the gun out of his holster and shot. He missed, by about two feet. Li'll Cash, reacting to the shot instinctively fired. But River's screech had thrown him off his game. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly to Mal's right. Mal fired again, this time his aim was dead on. Li'll Cash fell lifeless on the ground.

"RIVER!" Mal yelled as loud as he could, in a fruitless attempt to overpower River's screech, as he walked to the dead body, kicking it for good measure.  "I'S OVER, YOU CAN . . ." the girl suddenly stopped yelling, the captain didn't. "STOP!"

His last word echoed off the smooth corridors of the Betty-Lou and gave Mal the shivers. This felt for the world like a ghost ship, and with the body of the recently diseased captain's son lying in front of him, Mal couldn't imagine the ghosts would be friendly. "Come on kid's we gotta move," he said, turning towards the pair, hoping to find them ready to move. Instead he saw Simon lying on the ground, unconscious, and River looking down on him all weepy. 

"_Ow__ lun dan jhew hai," Mal muttered. "What now?"_

River looked up, her large eyes letting out a wash of tears. "I was too loud," she said, her voice trembling. "I hurt his head."

Mal sighed. It was very hard to be properly angry at a girl who so obviously was scared half to death. "'s all right," Mal muttered, walking over to Simon's body and slinging it over his shoulder. "You're brother's got a thick a head as anybody. You lead us out'a here and I promise you he'll be fine.

"Simon," River muttered, tears still streaming down her face. She was hugging herself tightly, staring at the Captain, looking helpless, like she didn't know what to do or how to act without being secured in the knowledge that Simon was there to take care of her.

"River," Mal said very firmly.  "You gotta get us outta here now.  We can't do nothin' for Simon less we get off this gorramn boat."

The girl stared at him, blinked, then turned and started walking very rapidly down one of the halls.  Mal took a deep breath, a relatively hard task with the unconscious Simon slung over his shoulder, and followed.

To be continued . . .

(Still more commin' . . . keep with the reviews)


	11. Matters Settled

**Matters Settled **

_Finally, dear Lord, I pray for Serenity herself.  I pray that you can use the ship, use the crew to your greater good.  I pray that you can use me, Lord.  That I may be a shine your light as the darkness presses down on the small ship.  Protect us from those who would do us harm, evil in its myriad forms.  Set before us righteous tasks and give us the strength to complete them.  Guide us and protect us Lord, this I pray, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Amen_

*   *   *

            Simon heard humming.  It was distant, soft, pleasant.  He kept listening.  

            It seemed to be getting closer.  Slowly Simon opened his eyes and saw pink.  Simon blinked a few times, and realized that he was in a bed with a canopy over it.  Now that he knew where he was he closed his eyes again and enjoyed the humming.  

            After another minuet it accrued to Simon that he didn't know who was humming, and he probably should. Also, Simon couldn't think of the last time he's seen a Canopied bed, not to mention lain on one.  There certainly wasn't one on Serenity.  "Wh . . ." he groaned as he opened his eyes and tried to push himself up onto his elbows.  "Where am I?" he asked the hummer.

            "You're with Honey," a low seductive voice said from somewhere in front of him.

            Simon lifted his head and had to close his eyes as dizziness washed over him.  When he opened them again he saw a busty Asian woman sitting on the bed with a shallow bowl in her lap.  She was smiling at him in a knowing way as she rang execs water out of a rag.  

            "Who?" Simon asked.

            "Honey," the woman said, leaning forward and placing the cool wet cloth on his forehead.  "I think you might wanna lie back down there sweetheart."

            "How did I get here?" Simon asked, "Where's River?"

            "You're on Harrper's Point, Sweetie," Honey said, "There ain't no river here."

            Simon didn't want to explain.  He put his hand to his head, taking the cloth away from Honey.  "Thank you," he said, glancing at her, "For, ah, everything.  But, how, how did I get here?"

            "Poor baby, so confused," Honey said, with a pouty expression as she put the bowl of water back on the floor. 

            Simon inched very slightly away from the volupsous Honey.

            "Your captain brought you in," Honey said, clearly understanding that Simon was not in the mood to play any of her games.  "You were unconscious."  
            "And where is Captain Reynolds?"

            "Do it matter?"

            "Yes, I think it does," Simon insisted.

            Honey sighed; she'd obviously had different ideas about what was going to happen when the young man woke up.  "He's about I'm sure."

            "I need to find him," Simon said trying to push himself out of the bed. Unfortunately, his sense of equilibrium hadn't quite returned.  His hand slipped as his head spun and he nearly tumbled out of the bed, if Honey, with her open arms and her large chest hadn't been there to catch him, he most certainly would have.

            "Easy now, Baby," she cooed.  "Best take it slow."

            Simon tried to push himself up, away from the woman but he was still jittery and weak, and she was not letting him go easily.  This was the most awkward, embarrassing situation Simon had ever found himself in.  "Please, could you . . ." he said, more or less into Honey's breast, as he tried to pull himself away. 

            "Well, well, well," the cool voice of Captain Reynolds said from somewhere behind Simon.  With sudden and amazing clarity, Simon pushed himself away from Honey and turned to see Mal walking into the room with a brown package in his hand and very amused expression on his face.  "You're quite the player boy, not twenty minuets ago you were out cold.  And here I come back and find you in Sweet Honey's arms."

            "I slipped," Simon tried to explain.  The excuse sounded very week, even to him.

            "Mind leavin' us alone for a minuet Hon?" Mal asked the voluptuous woman.  "Boy an' me got some talkin' to do."

            The woman sighed, "'Cores sir," she said, pushing herself off the bed.  She walked around the bed, eyeing Mal like a vulture sussing up a carcass, before leaving, slamming the door behind her.

            "They told me the woman has very gentle hands," Mal said more-or-less to Simon as he slouched down in a plush chair across from the bed where the doctor was still sitting, somewhat dazed. "I s'pose it takes more 'n that to make a decent nursemaid."  

            Mal looked at Simon, expecting an answer.  The boy didn't really have one, "I suppose so," he offered weakly.

            The Captain smiled warmly, regardless.  "How you feelin'?"

            "A little shaky," Simon admitted.  "None the better for waking up in the arms of a prostitute."

            "Yeah, well, this station don't have a clinic and there are precious few places here were a fella can get a clean bed ta rest in for an hour or so.  Sides, Madam Kelly runs a full service operation." Mal tossed a parcel wrapped in brown paper onto Simon's bed.  "Took the liberty of haven' your shirt and vest washed.  They were pretty soaked in blood, figured you'd want em nice and white fer dinner."

            "Thank you, Sir," Simon said, untying the packing string the cloths were wrapped in and pulling out the clean garments.  He was truly amazed by the Captains forethought and consideration.

            "And, ah, here," Mal said, getting up from the chair and handing Simon about a dozen paper bills.  

            "What are these for?" Simon asked, casually feeling the money to make sure it wasn't counterfeit.

            "I's your wage, what Li'll Cash paid.  Well, minus about five platinum fer restocking the Infirmary.  I was able to get everything on your list."

            "Captain," Simon said, his voice truly grateful.  "That was . . ."

            "And minus another three I gave to Inara to get River some decent fitin' cloths and a toy or somesuch.  I know she's ain't a kid, but it's creepy the way she lurks about the ship all day like a ghost.  I'd sure like for her to find somethin' to do."

            Simon was so grateful and amazed that he didn't think to apologize for his sister's undeniably odd and eerie behavior.  "Captain . . . Mal, thank you so . . ."

            "Don't have to thank me boy," Mal said quickly.  "You're the one did all the work then almost got killed on account.'

            "Still," Simon insisted.  "Thank you."

            "So," the Captain said crisply, changing the subject.  "You gonna tell me 'bout what happened?"

            Simon pushed himself to the edge of his bed and pulled one arm of the crisp clean shirt on, "What do you want to know?"

            "Li'll Cash said Old Cash was dead."

            "He is," Simon said slowly, pushing his arm through the other shirtsleeve.  "He died of suffocation."

            "They brought you on the ship to treat him for suffocation?" Mal asked.  "Now I don't know much 'bout Medicine, but that don't . . ."

            "No," Simon cut him off.  The boy licked his lips and started to explain as he started buttoning the crisp white shirt.  "Someone, my guess is Little Cash, stabbed Old Cash last night during his sleep.  The dagger, supposedly, was never found, but from the injures sustained I'd guess it was about nine inches long, four inches wide, with a serrated edge on one side."  

Mal blinked, surprised by the doctor's grasp of the details, and leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the medical story.  

            "Old Cash also had some sort of toxin or poison introduced into his system," Simon continued, having finished the front of his shirt he addressed his cuffs.  "Whether it was from ingestion or perhaps some coating on the blade that stabbed him, I'm not sure.  In either event, the dosage was not enough to kill the old man, just make him ill.  Likewise, the stab wound, while serious, was not fatal."

            "So why bother with a doctor if they wanted Old Cash dead?" Mal wondered aloud.  

            Simon shrugged, pulling the clean blue vest away from its brown paper wrapping.  "They didn't all want him dead.  Izard seemed very loyal to the Older Cash."

            "Maybe they needed the credibility," Mal muttered.  "There'd be no issue of Li'll Cash takin' his pa's place if he'd done everything to save 'im.  But if he hadn't, them loyal to the old man might just be strong enough for a mutiny.  Ya tell Li'll Cash all this about the knife and the poison, that why he tried to kill you?"

            "No," Simon sighed, unbuttoning his collar.  He'd buttoned it out of habit, assuming he'd have a tie, but the tie and coat that went with this suit had been left on the Betty-Lou.  Simon didn't really care, he had no use for suites on Serenity. 

"He decided to kill me after I realized he was the one trying, well," he hesitated before correcting himself, "who'd succeeded in killing his father.  After I performed surgery, closing the stab wound, stopping the bleeding, and the poison had failed to cause anything more serious than a fever, Little Cash smothered his father with a pillow."  Simon looked at Mal, "It wasn't a crime he could hide."

            "So to cover his tracks he decided to put you in a room, suck out all the oxygen and let you suffocate too?"

            "I think he was planing that from the start, that or something like it."

            "More like than not," Mal nodded.  "Now, tell me, why didn't you ever signal me with that transmitter I gave you?"

            "I, ah," Simon said, glancing away, and then back again.  "I didn't want you to think I was weak, that I needed help." 

            "You did need help, though," the Captain said.

            "Yeah," Simon nodded.  "I did."

"So you were gonna let yourself asphyxiate in a back room of a ship named Betty-Lou rather'n ask for help."

            "No," Simon said quickly.  "As soon as I realized that Little Cash was planing to murder me I tried to call you.  Unfortunately Kurt discovered the transmitter and . . ."

            "He stepped on it," Mal said softly.

            "How did you know?"

            "Li'll bird told me," Mal said quickly.  "So that's what happened?  You fixed up his pa, then he goes and kills 'im and then says you gotta die for not doin' more."

            "Mostly," Simon said.  "He killed Izard, framed him for the murder and then the next moment executed him."  The boy's voice was chilled and distant, Mal had a feeling the young doctor would have nightmares about this for months to come.  "There weren't any witnesses, I just don't understand why he'd bother."

            "'Cause he knew he'd done wrong," Mal said.  "He was trying to clear his conscience."

            "By committing another murder?"

            "I never said he was sane," Mal said.  

            Simon nodded, generally agreeing that Li'll Cash was anything but sane.  After a slight pause, Simon broke the silence with a question, "How did you find me, sir?"

            "What?" Mal asked, he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

            "The transmitter was broken," Simon said.  "You had no reason to believe I was in any danger.  And even if you did you wouldn't have had any idea where I was on the ship.  So, how did you find me?"

            "River found you," Mal answered simply.

            Simon's eyebrows shot up as he leaned forward in disbelief, "River?"

            The Captain nodded, "The girls somethin', that's for sure.  She knew you were in trouble, she knew right where to find you.  She even saved all our lives by distracting Li'll Cash long 'nough for me to shoot him."

            "You shot him?" Simon interrupted, obviously bothered.

            "You'd rather I did what?" Mal asked, annoyed at the young doctor for questioning his right to shoot people. "Turn him over to the Alliance?  He could go on trial, maybe, for the murder of his father."

            "That'd be justice," Simon said very softly, but with conviction.

            "Oh, and who you spose could testify?" Mal asked.  "You?" 

            Simon glanced away, clearly seeing the flaws in his preferred plan of action.

            "Or maybe we could get River on the stand," Mal insisted.  "Her testimony might be a little confusing, but I'm sure if we just explained that she was a top secret Alliance experiment the Judge wouldn't make too much a fuss."

            "All right," Simon said tersely.  "I get it."

            "I've chosen my course," Mal said forcefully, "I'd dedicated myself and my ship to protecting you and your sister.  If that means puttin' a bullet in the head of anyone who tries to kill you and steel her, then so be it.  I'd rather see that then see your River get taken off to have God-knows-what done to her brain."

            Simon, suddenly, looked very sad, "She's not my River," he said, staring at his hands.  "I used to think that, with some time, she would be again, be the girl I grew up with.  But, that was a pipe dream.  What they did to her . . . I might be able to help her, guide her, but I can't fix her, I can't heal her.  Some of that damage . . . it's permanent.  I realized that she's, she's never going to go back to being my River.  She's someone else now."

            There was a deep, heavy pause.  While the last to lull in the conversation had simply been spaces without words, this was a chasm full of words that were too painful to say and too hard to hear.  

            After a bit, Mal cleared his throat, "Now, obviously I didn't know her before," he said.  "Back when she was your cute li'll sister in pigtails or whatnot.  And I ain't gonna say I know her now cause, truth be told, I've never understood a person less than I understand that sister a yours.  But the one thing I do understand about her is that you are the only thing she cares about.  The way she looks at you: she knows what you gave up fer her sake.  She knows how much it hurts you to see her like this, such a mess.  She knows how hard you're tryin' to make things right with her.  And, maybe this is the most important, she knows that you're the only person who looks at her and sees what she was before her little trek through hell.  She loves you with all her heart, I'm sure of it.  The one thing I know she is, is yours." 

            Simon looked at the Captain with wonder.  He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but he couldn't find any words.

            With a little less passion, Mal continued.  "She's the one that saved you today," he said casually, "She's the one knew you were in trouble, she's the one that found ya, she's the one that got us way from Li'll Cash.  That girls more dedicated to you than . . . well, the only thing I kin think ta compare it to is how dedicated you are to her," He paused, finally adding.  "You're her Simon."

            The young man smiled and laughed, just a little.  "Thank you, sir." He said earnestly.  "You don't know how much that means to me."

            "Yeah well," Mal said, slapping his legs as he pushed himself out of the chair.  "I just didn't want you ta get all sad an' sentimental.  Anyone on the ship walks round with a rain cloud over their head and Kaylee's cheerfulness alarm goes off. She starts planin' 'community acctivities' an' forcin' everyone ta play twister."

            Simon laughed this time out of genuine mirth.

            "Sure, you chuckle away now," Mal said warningly.  "Just wait, you'll see.  'Bout seven months back, Inara got homesick.  Kaylee's solution was makin' stencils and havin' us all spend a day paintin' vines around the kitchen."

            "I'd wondered about that," Simon said, smiling.

            "That girl," Mal said to himself, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before turning to the doctor.  "Speekin' of, we're sposed to be meetin' the ladies outside'a  'Chien Wa's Fine German Eatery' for in 'bout twenty minuets.  You might wanna start quaffing your hair or whatever you do."

            Simon gave Mal a half amused, half annoyed glance and then stood up, swaying ever so slightly and having to catch himself on one of the bed post.

            "'Course," Mal continued, obviously concerned.  "If you wanna stay here, rest up, that'd be fine."

            "No," Simon said, taking a deep breath, letting go of the post and finding his center of balance before walking over to the vanity where he could see how badly he'd actually been hurt.  Honey, for all her eccentricity, had cleaned him up fairly well.  He knew that blood must have caked both his hands and been all over his face, but there were not signs of that. The gash from the riffle but looked much smaller than it felt, only about three inches long, right over his left eyebrow.  There was a huge bruise behind it that was, by this time, a dark uneven shade of blue.  He touched it and winced and decided he didn't want to touch it again. His hair was a mess, but Simon couldn't quite find it in himself to care.  Overall, he looked tired.  Of course, over all, he felt tired.  

He rubbed his eyes and turned to Captain Reynolds.  "How far is it to the restaurant?"

            "Bout ten minuets walk, at a good pace.  Course you don't exactly look up to a good pace."

            "We should probably get going," Simon said.

            "Probably," Mal said, nodding his head to indicate the doctor should lead the way out.  

            When they reached the door, Simon pulled it open and held it for the Captain.  As Mal passed, the younger man asked, "Just out of curiosity, Captain, is there any place you can go and not fall into some bizarre adventure?"

            Mal didn't even have to think, he just sighed and said, "Haven't found one yet."

            Simon nodded, following his Captain out the door. "That's pretty much what I suspected."

**The End**

(There's going to be an epilog, and an almost complete Chinese translation page so keep your eyes open.  And, as always, please review.)


	12. Translations

****

Here are the Chinese words in order of appearance. I'm fairly sure there's no Chinese in the epilog so this should be it.

__

hong ya bing hun dan: Greedy bastard (lit. red eye sick mixed egg)

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meng gu di fu: Witch Doctor

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Fei hau: bullshit (lit. Waist speech)

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hun dan : Bastard (lit. mixed egg)

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ma fan: bitch

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er bai wu: idiot

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huai dan : villain (lit. Bad egg)

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fei chang jin zang: a bag of nerves 

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liu man er bai wu meng gu dai fu: Bastard, idiot, witch doctor

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Dah Bien: shit

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lok chat: dick

Hong yan bing huai dan: greedy villain

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Poq Gai: go die in the street

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baw lan jiao liu man: no cock bastard

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Gun dan: get the hell out (lit. roll eggs)

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Sha ya tou: silly girl

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Hen ga tsan: I forgot, although _Hen_ means rude, disobedient, hateful or viscous dog and _ga_ means to walk unevenly (subordination, perhaps) and I think _tsan_ might mean to disperse or scatter, although I really can't be sure. 

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Wan ba dan: I think I transcribed this wrong, _Wang ba dan_ means son of a bitch, which would make scenes 

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Ow lun dan jhew hai: ox cock double-boiled in a pig's cunt (I didn't make this up)

__ __


	13. Epilog: Kaylee’s Happy Ending!

Authors note:  Well, you all complained about the short chapters.  You know why they were so short?  Because the epilog's a bloody novel!  -- Enjoy

**Epilog: Kaylee's Happy Ending!__**

_(The following is an expert from Shepherd Books Prayers earlier in the day)_

_And Jesus, thank you for Kaylee.  You give us so many gifts, Lord, but is so rare that you put them all in one person.  God, I praise you for her continual smile, for her compassionate heart, for her exuberant spirit, for her steadfast dedication, for her subtle wisdom and simple faith.  Please, Lord, shower her with blessing after blessing.  Give her all her heart desires._

Kaylee starred into the darkness, it starred back.

                Well, that's not quite accurate, she starred back, or to be more precise, her reflection in the cooled coffee starred back at her.  Every now and then she'd shift the cup, sending ripples across her face, but it didn't change anything.  Kaylee looked at herself, as reflected in a mug, and wondered what other people saw, or to be more precise, wondered what Simon saw, or if he saw anything at all.  

                She wasn't really pretty, she knew that.  Of course the Captain told her she was pretty, but that was like hearing from a Dad or an uncle, they said that because they loved you for other reasons.  And Inara said she was pretty too, but Kaylee couldn't help but feel the Companion meant it the way an adult tells a three-year-old they're clever, meaning 'Compared to your peers, not to me.'  And Kaylee didn't usually care if she wasn't beautiful.  She was other, more important, things.  But she cared tonight, because she'd put in the effort tonight, she'd wanted to impress someone tonight, and he hadn't even noticed her.  

                Tomorrow, she thought, she'd pull herself together and take another go at it, try something different, find a positive outlook.  But tonight she was going to indulge herself in self-pity and nurse her aching heart.  She wished she'd thought ahead and picked up some wine at Harpper's Point, if there was ever a time to get drunk, it was now.

                Her morose introspection was interrupted by an unusually cheerful Zoe, who came bounding into the common area like a wave of heat exiting an oven.   "Hey, Little Kaylee," the first mate said, patting Kaylee on the back as she walked past, heading to the coffeepot.  "What you doin' up?"

                Kaylee sighed, not bothering to hide her sadness, "Hiya Zoe, I didn' much feel like being alone."

                Zoe looked around the room, obviously amused by how empty it was, "I guess you were the only one."

                "Guess so," Kaylee muttered.  

                Zoe picked up the coffeepot and shook it, "Anything left in here?"

                "Naw, I only made enough fer one."

                "Maybe if you'd a made more, someone would'a joined you."

                "Don't think," Kaylee said, rolling the mug between her hands and watching her reflection warp in the ebbs and crests.  "Everyone's too tired."  
                "Tell me about it," Zoe laughed, pouring enough water into the pot to make a second mug of coffee.  "All we did was get pampered all day, and Wash could barely keep his eyes open through dinner."  She laughed, "I think he's a little too relaxed."

                Kaylee laughed too, but it was obviously stilted and a little forced.  For the first time, Zoe realized that the engineer was not her usual ball of sunshine.

                "Hey, little sister, is everything alright?"

                "Oh, I'm fine, just shiny!" Kaylee said, with as big a smile as she could force.

                "Ok," Zoe said in her standard cut-the-crap voice as she sat down across from the young engineer.  "You're going to tell me everything right now."

                Kaylee played with the idea of denying her gloomy mood, but quickly dismissed it.  Zoe was tenacious; she'd get it out of her eventually.  Better tell now and save a half-an-hour of questioning and the threat of a gunshot wound.  Of course, the girl mused morosely, if she was shot Simon would _have to notice her.   "Do you think I'm pretty enough?"_

                That was not a question Zoe expected to hear.  "Darlin' a course you're pretty.  Why you even askin'?"

                "I jus' . . . I really wanted," Kaylee swallowed hard, gulping down her pride.  "I wanted Simon to see me tonight, all dressed up, lookin' shiny . . ."

                "An' ya don't think he saw you."

                "The whole night he was lookin' at River.  He hardly noticed the food," she had to blink furiously not to burst into tears.  "He didn' notice me."

                "Kaylee," Zoe said kindly, reaching out and wrapping her hand's around the young girls.  "Why does it matter what Simon thinks?  If he ain't smart enough to notice you, than he ain't good enough for you."

                "I's jus' I . . . Inara an me, we went shopping especially so I could get a dress, look pretty, look like a lady, an' he didn't even notice."

                "I's a real pretty dress," Zoe said.  "Wash whistled when he saw ya."

                "I heard," Kaylee said, smiling just a little.

                "But Wash don't count.  And them nice things the Cap'in said, they don't count neither."

                "I guess I'm bein' silly," Kaylee muttered.  "_Fong luh, tha's me."_

                "No," Zoe said compassionately, "I remember the first time I went out ta dinner with Wash, alone, without the Cap'in.  I was laughin' so hard figured my sides would split, harder 'n I ever laughed before in my whole life.  An' I was never one to laugh much. Fact, growin' up, kids called me judge, 'caus I was so serious all the time.  But Wash, he made me laugh," She smiled at the memory, and probably a host of others, "Still can.  An' the whole time we were sittin' there and I was doin' nothin' but laughin' I was thinin' ta myself, 'He must think I'm so dull 'n slow witted.'  Honestly, I didn' imagine that he could be drawn to me, serious like I was."

                "But Zoe," Kaylee said, "Yer so pretty and . . ."

                "An' I ain't anything mor'in you," Zoe said forcefully.  "My point is tha' you never, never know what's in a boy's head.  All that time I was thinkin' Wash figured me for a _sha__ ya tou and, I learned later, the whole time he thought I was just laughin' ta be nice.  He was nervous as I was."_

                "He looked at you," Kaylee pointed out. 

                "The other thing ta think about," Zoe continued.  "Is that he loves his sister very much."

                "I know," Kaylee said softly.

                "An' he hasn't seen the girl since she was fourteen."

                Kaylee nodded.

                "You know," Zoe continued.  "It's really sweet, when ya think on it, how much he cares for her." 

                "I know," Kaylee muttered.

                "So, as far as I can't see it, It ain't exactly right to begrudge him the first time he's seen her dressed up since . . . well, since she was a little girl."

                Kaylee glanced up from her coffee, "I din' think 'bout that."

                "Besides, way the Captain tells it, he had a rough day.  Boy probably didn't have 'nuff sense in his head ta stair at any more'n one pretty girl."

                Kaylee chuckled and smiled naturally, if not broadly.

                "There're you go, Little Kaylee," Zoe said encouragingly, as she lifted herself out of the chair and headed towards the percolating brew. "I was gettin' worried that hell'd frozen over, seein' you without that smile."

                Kaylee's smile broadened as she laughed again, "I'll be ok.  I jus gotta get all the disappointments outa my system."

                "Yeah, well," Zoe said, watching her reflection be distorted as she swirled her own mug of coffee.  "You could wait here fer that ta happen, or you could go over the Infirmary, maybe speed things up a twitch."

                "Why?" Kaylee asked with a nervous caution.  

                "River's gone to bed," Zoe said, with a knowing smile.  "Doc decided ta stay up an' unpack all the new stuff fer the infirmary.  An' last but not least, you're still wearing that pretty dress."

                The smile that had been growing on the girls mouth finally made it's way to her eyes.  "He might want some coffee."

                "Reckon he might," Zoe nodded.

                "But he's probably too tired to get it himself," the girl said, pushing away from the table.  

                "Most like."

                "I'll just make him some," Kaylee said, dumping her cold coffee in the recycler and putting enough water in the pot for another two cups.  "An' then I could, maybe, help him put them new supplies away."

                "I'm sure he'd like the help," Zoe said, suggestion heavy in her voice.  "So long as you ain't to over dressed."

                "Well," Kaylee said, "This is what I'm wearin' so this is what he's gettin'."

                Zoe hit the younger girl on the arm affectionately, "That's my Kaylee."

*   *   *

                "Simon?" Kaylee said, rounding the corner to the infirmary door.  There was no answer.  "Simon?" she called a little louder.  Still nothing.   Worry was starting to develop, but before it was noticeable enough to push down with conscious assurances that nothing could possibly be wrong, she'd reached the door and discovered why the doctor was being so silent.  "Awww, Simon," she said softly, just staring for a second at the sight in front of her.

                The lights were on, making the infirmary the only bright spot on the night-lit ship. Half unpacked boxes littered the floor, miscellaneous medical equipment was stacked and piled in various areas, and in the middle of it all, on the examination chair in the center of the room, Simon lying on his side, fast asleep.  

                Kaylee chuckled softly and put down the two stemming cups of coffee on a surgical cart by the door.  "Simon," She said again, her voice sing-songy and pleasant as she approached him.  She bent over, ignoring the stab of pain in her belly, so that when he opened his eyes he'd see her face. "'S time to wake up."

                The boy groaned.

                "Simon?" She said again, putting her hand gently on his arm. 

                "Wha . .?"  the young Doctor said, snapping awake at her touch.   For a second he just stared at her smiling at him.  Then he blinked a few times and pushed himself into a sitting position, "Kaylee," he said, obvious confused, "Hi."

                "Have a long day?" The girl asked sweetly.

                "Ah, yeah," Simon said, rubbing his eyes.  

                "Maybe you should go to bed," Kaylee suggested.  "All this stuff'll keep until mornin'."

                Simon nodded, "I suppose so.  I guess I was just a little eager to . . ." he stopped, as if something had just accrued to him.  "Are you alright?"

                "What?" Kaylee asked, clearly surprised by the question.  
                "You're not hurt, or anything, are you?"  he asked with real concern.  Kaylee noticed his eyes drifting from her face down towards her abdomen.  "No swelling, coughing up blood, eye watering pain?"

                Kaylee's hands found their way over the bullet wound.  "You think there should be eye waterin' pain?"

                "I think," Simon said slowly.  "That we should switch places."  He pushed himself off of the chair and gently took her arm,  "Come on," he urged.  "Up you go."

                Kaylee complied.  "You gonna examine me?" she asked, a little mystified.  "In the middle of the night."

                "Why not?" he asked, smiling very pleasantly.  "It's as good a time as any."

                "Ain't you sleepy?"  

                "More worried," he said honestly, as he turned and started picking his way across the cluttered infirmary towards the counter where he kept his medical log.  "I've noticed that your wound has been giving you some pain lately. I think I let you do too much too fast. I'm concerned it might rupture."

                "That don't sound good," Kaylee said nervously.

                "It's not going to happen," Simon assured her, glancing at her over his shoulder.  "Lean back, relax."

                The engineer followed her orders as Simon flipped the pages of the notebook scanning his entries critically.  After a minute of silence Kaylee asked, "How'd you know if I was in pain? I didn' tell anyone."

                Simon smiled at her kindly as he navigated back through the cluttered medical supplies.  "I watch you walk, watch how you move, look at your expressions.  You hide it very well, but  . . . I noticed."

                Kaylee tried to hide how thrilled that made her.  If Simon could tell, he hid it beautifully.  

"I'm, ah," he said taking a deep breath as he stepped up to the chair.  "I'm going to have to slip my hand's under your dress, there," he said, focusing totally on her stomach and not looking her in the face.  "I just need to, ah, feel the way the wound has been heeling.

"'Course," 

                "Now, I want you to breath normally," Simon said officially as he slid his hands between the pink silk cords that made the back and under the front of the garment.  "This might hurt a little."

                "Ahh," Kaylee gasped as Simon pressed down. It felt like he was pushing a penknife in her belly, not gently prodding with his fingers. 

"Humm," he muttered, "That hurts?" 

"Yuh-huh."

"Sorry," he said, still looking at her stomach, or rather, the general lump under her silk dress that was his right hand. "Tell me," he continued. "Does this hurt more, or less?" 

He pressed down again and Kaylee sucked in her breath as her eyes started to water. She was about to say less when she was distracted by his left hand, which had started stroking her hair in a comforting way. Through the pain, she smiled, "Less," she squeaked, "But i'still hurts." 

"Humm," he said again, his brow was knit as his medical mind worked the symptoms through to their logical conclusion, his left hand continued to tug gently and lovingly on her hair. "Can you describe the pain?"

"Ahh . . ." Kaylee said, the actions of both his hands were somewhat distracting, she was having a hard time thinking clearly. "Painful . . ." 

"I mean," Simon said, slipping his right hand out of her dress and removing his left hand from her hair as he turned to write more in his medical log. "When I pressed down, was it sharp, just at the point I pressed, or did the whole region ache?" 

"Just the sharp one I spose," she said. "Like you was stabbin' me or somethin'."

"And if you were to rate it, on a scale of one to ten one being, I don't know, pricking your finger with a needle and ten being  . . .," He glanced away, "Well . . . when you were shot."

"These'r hard questions," Kaylee mused.  "Wha' if I get one wrong?"

"You can't get one wrong," Simon chuckled, his discomfort evaporating.  He looked back at her, "I just want to know how you feel."

Kaylee sighed, "Well, when ya pressed down, Six?"

                "Six?"

                "Is that right?"

                Simon laughed, "This isn't a test."

                "Seem's like one," Kaylee muttered.   

"Sorry," he said meekly.  "I'm just trying to help."

"Well," Kaylee sighed, "Go on then."

 "All, all right," Simon said uncertainly, nodding at her. "And, and, usually, when I'm not pressing down on it, does it hurt."

"What, when I'm just standin'?" 

"Yes." 

She shook her head, "Not so bad." 

"But a little?"

She nodded grudgingly.

"Like what, a two, a three?"

"Spose, not bad 'nuff ta complain about."

"And what if your moving?' 

"Movin' how?" 

"Ah," he stuttered, "Moving, like, running, or jogging, or walking, or shifting your wait?" 

"Four or five, maybe," Kaylee said, finally getting the hang of numbering. "'Course, if I'm runnin' or bendin' at the waist. Tha's when it hurts bad, like an eight." 

Simon sighed, "I wish you'd told me," he said, closing his log and turning to her. He looked adorable when he was concerned. 

"I didn' wanna bother you," Kaylee said, a little of the lightness dropping out of her voice. "I'm used to cuts and scapes, you get plenty a them workin' with engines." 

"This isn't a scrape," Simon insisted. "You have to take it easy." 

"I hate takin' it easy." Kaylee grumbled. 

Simon smiled at her, opened his mouth to say something but didn't. Instead he shook his head and his smile just got bigger. 

"What?" Kaylee asked, her own downcast mood lifting a little. "What is it?"

"It's just your so . . ." He said, starring at her, searching for the right word. He finally settled on "Irrepressible." 

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked cautiously. 

"Well, it means you . . ."

"I know what it means," Kaylee said quickly. He was so smart; the last thing she wanted him thinking was that she was dumb. "I just want to know if you think its a good thing or," her voice got a little softer as she muttered the last few words, looking at him sheepishly. "Or a bad thing." 

"Well that depends," he said, offering her a hand and pulling her into a more upward sitting position so that they were, more or less, eye to eye. "If it means you are running around lifting heavy things, climbing ladders and generally using your abdominal muscles as if you hadn't recently received a near-fatal shot to the gut well, then, it's bad." 

Kaylee nodded, "I see." 

"But," Simon continued, looking at her with unmistakable gratefulness and admiration. "If it means you insist on treating my baby sister like a normal child despite all evidence to the contrary, well, then it's a very, very good thing." 

A beautiful smile blossomed across her face. "River's sweet, weren't no trouble." 

Simon laughed at her, "Liar," he said playfully. "She ran away from you and, according to her, you chased her. That must have hurt . . . a lot." 

Kaylee shrugged. That wasn't anything she'd ever wanted River, or Simon, to know. "I wouldn'a run after her if I'd known she'd gone straight ta the Cap'in." 

"That doesn't matter," Simon insisted. "What matters is that you did, run after her I mean. Thank you." 

"Weren't nothin'," Kaylee said again. By now she was blushing. 

"Well," Simon said, glancing away.  "It was something to me.  What you did for her today, all of it, that meant a lot to me.  Thank you."

"Well, your welcome," Kaylee said.  That eight-point pain seemed more than worth it now.

"I do have one question for you though," Simon said. 

"Wa's that?" 

"Did Inara pick out that dress for River or did you because . . ." 

He was interrupted by Kaylee's near hysterical laughter. 

"Kaylee," the young man said, reaching out and grabbing her arms, worried that she might tip and fall off the chair. "Calm down," her laughter was contagious, he was chuckling too. 

"I's just," the girl said, gasping for breath. "Nara an' me, we had a bet over who'd you ask 'bout the dress first."

"And you won?" 

"Naw," Kaylee said, coming to herself. "I gotta giver her shuttle a tune up tamarra." 

"If I'd asked Inana first, what was she going to do for you?" Simon asked, mischievous curiosity in his eyes. 

"That's none of your business, Doctor," Kaylee answered coyly.

Simon nodded, "I see. Well, I think I could help you get out of your bet, if you'd like." 

Kaylee laughed again, this time at the doctor, "Simon, you can't lie. You can't even keep a secret w'out showin' it. I don't think an ounce of you could be dishonest no matter how hard you tried." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Simon said, a little hurt. 

"You're on a ship of scavengers and pirates runnin' from the law," Kaylee reminded him. "Lyin's sorta a life skill out here."

"Be that as it may, my plan doesn't require a lie."

"See," Kaylee sighed, "Ya can't even plan ta lie."

"Do you want me to help you or not?" Simon demanded. 

"Sorry," Kaylee said, forcing herself not to giggle at the doctor's frustration. "What's yer plan?" "I'm ordering you to bed rest." 

"What?" Kaylee gasped. "Doctor, I never . . ."

"Are gonna heal, unless you stop stressing the wound," Simon said firmly.  "Unless there's an emergency and we'll all die horrible deaths because Serenity is about to explode, it would really be best for you if you could just rest.  Mal said it would take us fourteen days to reach Flagstaff.  You can get a lot of healing done in fourteen days."

"I'm gonna get lonely."

"I give you permission to walk to a place, like Inara's shuttle, or the common room, so long as you promise to lie down for at least five hours once you get there."

"Don' spose I could haggle ya down to three?"

"Five's my finale offer, take it or I'll have Mal lock you in your room all day."

Kaylee looked at him shrewdly, "You couldn' do tha'."

Simon took a deep breath, and crossed his arms over his chest, "You're the one that said I couldn't lie.  I think that means I'd be a pretty poor bluffer."

Kaylee laughed softly and broke into a smile, "Don' suppose I could come lie in here?  Keep ya company while you sort through all'a this."

"That would be really, very nice," Simon said, just a touch of wonder in his voice.  "I'd like that."

"Shiny," Kaylee said, struggling to mask her excitement, "It's a date."

Simon chuckled and nodded.  "I guess I'd better walk you home then.  That way I'd be able to pick you up in the morning."

                He helped her down from the bed and hooked his arm in hers as they walked through the common rooms and the kitchen, which had, thankfully, no trace of Zoe.  He glanced at her, brow knit with worry, at every stair.  Kaylee felt pampered. She felt like a lady.

                "You know," Simon said as they reached the crew quarters, "I don't think I told you how amazing you look.  I'm sorry."

                "You complement me then you apologize?" Kaylee asked.

                "I apologize for not complimenting you sooner," Simon explained as they drew up to her door, covered in Christmas lights.  "I was thoughtless."

                "Well," Kaylee said slowly and softly.  "Tell me again what you said, then I'll accept the apology."

                "You look absolutely amazing," Simon said without hesitation, his voice was soft and low, his hands were on her arms and he was starring into her large, eager eyes.  "You have no idea."

                "Hey there kids!" Mal's voice fell on their intimate conversation like a bucket of cold water.  Simon went rigged, he stepped back, almost fearfully, and his face turned a bright, burring red.

                Kaylee sighed, she'd been so close, "Hey Cap'in."

                "Now doctor," Mal said, pulling himself further up the ladder and eventually, sitting on the hatch, his legs dangling down to the room.  "I'm shocked.  This morin' your implyin' things ta our Companion, this afternoon I find ya in the arms of a prostitute named Honey, and here ya are, outside'a my engineer's bedroom, lookin' for all the world like you're gonna . . ."

                "I, ah," Simon stuttered, floundering in a days worth of embarrassments.  

"He's worried 'bout me Cap'in," Kaylee explained, glaring at Mal with a venom4ince that brought a hint of nervousness to Mal's eyes.  "Jus' wanted ta see me home."

"Oh," Mal said, "Is that what he wanted ta do?"

"I should really . . ." Simon said taking another step back.

                Kaylee took a step forward and, before Simon's over-cautiousness could be moved to stop her, she pushed herself on her tows and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.  

"Sleep-sweet Simon," she said, smiling up at him as she took a step back.

                He looked down at her, amazed.  "You too," he said softly.  Then collecting himself, took another step backward. "Kaylee, Captain, Good-night."  He beat a hasty retreat, his eyes on the ground, blushing as he past Mal.

                Once Simon was safely out of earshot, Kaylee turned to Mal and threw him her sourest look, "You owe me," she said forcefully.

                The Captain was trying not to break into snickers, "Do I?"

                "Cap'in, he was gonna kiss me," Kaylee said, exasperated.

                "Certainly seemed so," Mal nodded, pushing himself up out of his hatch and wondering over to where Kaylee was standing, glaring at him furiously.  "Still crushin' over 'im Little Kaylee? Looks like he might be crushin' a little back."

                "Ya think?" she asked, excitement in her voice, her anger instantly melting away. "He's awful nice."

                "Awful handsome too."

                "Cap'in?" 

                "Leastwise, that's what Honey told me."

                "That hooker ya had nurse 'im back ta health?"

                "Oh, he told you 'bout that did he?"

                "You told me."

                "Did I?  Huh?"

                Kaylee laughed and then sighed.  "Wha'da'ya think 'bout him?  Really?"

                "I think, Little Kaylee, that he's a good 'nuff man doin' damn well under the worst circumstances.  An' if you gotta crush on someone, well, better him than Jayne."

                Kaylee laughed again, in shock as much as in humor. "You shouldn't say that," she said, slapping his arm.  "He might hear."

                Mal smiled down at her and chuckled, "Spose it don't much matter what guy you hook yourself up with so long as he treats you like a princess."

                "Oh, like you treat me?" Kaylee asked, amused.

                "I do!" Mal nodded.  "I treat you just like them princesses who are real good at fixin' things in a kingdom where things is always fallin' apart."

                Kaylee laughed again and wrapped her arms around Mal in a warm hug, "You treat me too good."

                "Funny thing, bout that, I'd say the same a you," Mal said, kissing the top of her head with a very fatherly affection.  "Now you get to sleep, Princess.  You got two straight weeks a flirtin' with Simon ahead a you, don' wanna start out all sleepy."

                "'Night Cap'in," Kaylee said, pushing open her hatch and, very carefully, starting down the ladder, as a number seven pain twisted in her stomach.  "Sleep sweet."

                "You too, Little Kaylee," Mal said, smiling down on her before he closed the hatch.

                Once she was alone, Kaylee felt very, very tired.  She barely had enough energy to slip out of her new dress and into her pajamas.  She was asleep seconds after she lay down, and her dreams were very sweet indeed.


End file.
